


Funny How Life Works Out

by mad_martha



Series: Coming Home [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Drama, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-09
Updated: 2011-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 05:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_martha/pseuds/mad_martha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which life-altering decisions are made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Funny How Life Works Out

**Author's Note:**

> This fic deals with an issue which the original Coming Home story left very much open, i.e. how Harry and Ron's new, mid-life relationship would develop. I know that while I was happy with that ending (and still am!) a lot of people felt that the story had almost ended on a cliff-hanger, and while I still feel that the ending worked for that particular stage in their lives and the relationship, I always knew that later on things would change for them. So this is how it changed.
> 
> I should add a mild warning that, like Coming Home, this story doesn't have a huge plot. The Coming Home stories tend to meander a bit, dealing with 'issues' along the way, and mostly they're about life and exploring how the characters interact in a given situation. Which probably breaches the Great Universal Story Charter somewhere, but there it is.

"Do I want to know what you were doing to make the Balancing Charm wig out?" Ron Weasley asked Sirius Potter, as they watched the teenager's broomstick wobble and tilt in the air in front of them.

"I was trying a Wronsky Feint," the boy admitted sheepishly, although Ron could tell that wasn't the whole story.

"And what reason would a Chaser have to try out a risky Seeker manoeuvre?"

Sirius hesitated, considering his answer as Ron watched him with well-hidden amusement.

"Our Seeker left Hogwarts this year," he said finally.  "I just thought … maybe I could try out for the Seeker next term.  As a change, you know?"

It didn't take a genius to work out why, Ron thought.  It might not be obvious, but Sirius idolised his father and Harry had been one of the most remarkable Seekers to play for a Hogwarts team in the school's history.  The fact that Harry was proud of Sirius just as he was and always encouraged his son to make his own mark would be immaterial to the boy.

"You're a good Chaser," was all he said, though.  "Better than good, from what I hear."

"Yeah, but the Chasers don't get noticed," Sirius muttered.  "It's the Seeker who wins the game."

"Not always.  It's perfectly possible to win a game without catching the Snitch, you know.  More than one World Cup's been won that way.  Besides, the team is seven players, not one.  The Seeker's hopeless without good Beaters to defend him, good Chasers to bump up the score, and a good Keeper to stop the other team scoring.  I was Keeper," he added mildly.

"Yeah, Dad told me."  Sirius shot him a quick grin.

"And your grandfather was Chaser _and_ Captain.  How many people remember the Seeker's name from James Potter's team?  If you talk to my brother Bill, James is the only player he remembers from that year."

"Yeah, but everyone remembers him for other stuff too," Sirius persisted.

"So?  That's not always a good thing," Ron said dryly, "as I'm pretty sure your dad's already told you."

"It's different for Dad," Sirius muttered, but he dropped the argument and began to wander around the workshop, idly examining things.

Ron watched him covertly as he began to strip back the layers of charms on the broomstick.  It was eerily like having a teenaged Harry there; they looked alike, had the same gruff voice and similar mannerisms.  The only difference was that Sirius was generally more confident than his father had been at sixteen, and significantly less moody.  He could be cheeky occasionally too, something Harry had never really been, but Ron didn't mind that; one word was enough to rein the boy in if he went too far.  As teenagers went, he was far from being the most troublesome.  Ron knew that Harry had had a few battles with Sirius, nothing major as far as he could see and nothing that wasn't to be expected when a boy had to deal with his father as a professor as well as a parent.

"Watch yourself over there," he said, when Sirius strayed towards the storage area where Ron kept rough lengths of wood before turning them into broom-handles.  "I'm expecting a fresh delivery soon."

Sirius came back to the work bench. 

"You've got loads of wood already," he remarked.

"Yeah, but most of what's left is no good for brooms.  I'll be sending it back to the suppliers to be sold on as kindling."

Sirius frowned.  "How do you tell the difference?  It all looks the same to me."

Ron considered this question as he gestured for the boy to hop onto the hovering broom and test the adjusted balance.

None of his own sons had shown any interest in following him into the broomwright profession.  That didn't bother Ron; not everyone was suited to the craft, and he knew that the twins would not have possessed the patience and his eldest son, Gareth, was painstaking to an extreme that would have been impractical.  But it also took a certain feel for the work to be a success as a broomwright, and many of the apprentices Ron accepted for training either washed out within the first two years or ended up being channelled into the less demanding aspects of the profession.  His current apprentice, Alfred, would almost certainly never progress beyond being a Finisher.

It hadn't occurred to Ron that Sirius Potter might have a talent in that direction before, although Harry had only recently expressed a mild concern that his son seemed to have no idea what profession to aim for when he left school.  His maternal relatives were a high-flying bunch, involved in everything from the international confectionery business to diplomacy, but somehow Ron didn't see the boy gracing the Ministry or making Easter eggs when he grew up.  Like Harry, he was far too active.

"Come here," he said, when he'd finished adjusting the charm on Sirius's broom.  He took a length of wood from the side of his bench and held it out.  "Hold that and close your eyes."

Curious, Sirius did as he was asked.  "What do I do?"

"Tell me what you can feel without looking."

"Um … it's a bit rough."

"Run your hands down it.  What else can you tell me?"

There was a pause. 

"There aren't any knots," Sirius said finally.

"Good.  Anything else?  You should be able to feel something about it with your magic."

There was a longer pause this time. 

"There's a split somewhere inside it."  Sirius's eyes popped open in surprise.  "Is that right?" he demanded.

Ron grinned at him.  "Yep.  It's just a small split, but the first time anyone tried to fly a broom made from that over any distance, the shaft would warp and probably tip them off.  The thing is, you can't see that split from the outside.  The branch _looks_ sound.  Now what do you reckon caused the split?"

The boy pondered for a while, running his hands over the branch. 

"It's … it feels like it might be a bit dry inside," he ventured finally.

"Right!"  Ron took the branch back and stood it against the wall.  "There's something wrong with the tree it came from - probably didn't get enough water one year.  I'll mark that branch before I send it back, so that they know not to take wood from the same tree again."

"Can anyone do that?" Sirius wanted to know.

"No," Ron said, and he hid a grin at the way the boy's face brightened.  "Not everyone's sensitive to wood.  But a broomwright has to be because if you can't tell good wood from bad, you can never make a broom that's safe to ride.  I toss half the would-be apprentices the company sends to me because they can't do what you just did."

That definitely gave Sirius food for thought.

"How long did it take you to train?" he asked, as Ron made the final adjustments to his broomstick.

"Two years of basic training, and another three years working directly with a Master Broomwright.  Then I spent almost ten years as a journeyman, making stock brooms for Cleansweep, before I progressed to Master Broomwright myself."  Ron looked at the boy.  "It's not the best paid job in the world, either, when you first start out."

Sirius didn't seem particularly daunted by that, but then he had no reason to be.  He had a trust fund that would ensure that he would never lack for food and accommodation, and relatives who would probably quite happily fund him if he chose to drift for a few years when he left school.  Not that Ron thought he would drift, in spite of Harry's mild concerns.  A boy like Sirius would want to do something with his life, and unlike his father he had no reason to go drastically off the rails.

There was a sudden loud _whoosh_ and clatter, and a pile of semi-prepared broom handles landed in the storage area, making Sirius jump.  Ron came to a decision.

"Are you dashing off somewhere now, or do you have a couple of hours to spare?" he asked the teenager.

Sirius looked intrigued.  "I'm not busy."

"Good.  You can help me sort this lot out and see how well you can pick the bad ones."

 

xXx

 

Harry walked into the workshop just as Ron was finishing up for the day.  Sirius had already left several hours earlier.

"I don't have to ask if you were the one responsible for Sirius coming home covered in sawdust and wood shavings earlier," he remarked amiably, leaning against the doorpost.

Ron only grinned.

"Although how I'm going to explain to his mother that he wants to be a broomwright, I don't know.  She'll blame me, you realise."

"Nothing wrong with being a broomwright," Ron retorted.  "Nice, steady job, very skilled ….  Besides, she'll blame me as much as you, you know that."

Sirius's mother, Cleone, had not been impressed by Ron on the one occasion they had met.  She spent most of the encounter alternately insulting and flirting with him, while making well-salted remarks to Harry in French about men who polished brooms for a living.  Much of her annoyance was almost certainly due to Ron being openly unimpressed by her.

Harry dug his hands into his pockets, his brow furrowed.

"I can live with Cleone being pissed off with me about it," he said eventually.  "What I don't want is for him to get fired up with the idea only to end up being cut from the apprenticeship within a week because he doesn't suit.  He's a good kid, but he wouldn't take that very well."

"He wouldn't get cut, I can tell you that right now," Ron said calmly.  "I taught him more in one afternoon than I've been able to teach Alfred in two months.  He's got the best natural aptitude I've seen since I became a Master, if you must know - he's got the feel for the wood, he's good with charms and he likes brooms enough to be genuinely interested in how they're made.  That Comet Rocket you bought him last year?  The Balancing Charm didn't slip because he flew it into the ground.  He'd been tinkering with it, to try and improve the speed, but he didn't admit that until we stripped down another broom and I showed him how I knew."

"I can see he's going to be buying his own brooms in future," Harry remarked, dryly humorous.

Ron shrugged, amused.  "It wasn't the worst damage I've seen done by an amateur.  It was incidental, he didn't realise he'd knocked the Balancing Charm out of true.  I'm not sure what he was trying would have worked anyway, Comet's brooms are touchy when you tamper with them."

There was a long pause.  Ron finished cleaning up and brushed his robe off before putting it on.

"Do you seriously think he'd make it into the training programme?" Harry asked suddenly.

"If Cleansweep sent him to me tomorrow, I'd apprentice him - no question," Ron replied.  "I haven't told _him_ that, though, because he's a bright lad and he should take his NEWTS first.  But if he's still interested when he leaves school, I'll take him on myself and someone else can teach Alfred to tune tail twigs or whatever."  He scowled briefly.  "That's if Alfred's still around by then.  If he keeps skiving off the way he's been doing, he won't last till the end of the summer.  I don't have the time to waste on someone who doesn't want to learn."

"You're unlucky with your apprentices, aren't you?" Harry remarked, amused.

Ron shrugged.  "A lot of people don't make it past the first year anyway.  No staying power and expectations that are too high.  I do my best to set them straight when they first arrive, but I reckon they don't listen.  Mind you, neither did I when I started out," he added fairly.  "But I didn't expect more than to make a reasonable living at something I halfway liked.  That might be why I didn't wash out."

They walked out into the alley and Ron turned to lock up the workshop.

"I don't know what Sirius expects out of life, you know," Harry said.  His brow furrowed anxiously for a few moments.

"What did you expect?" Ron asked him.

"To get kicked - repeatedly.  I wasn't disappointed in that, either.  I didn't expect to end up as a teacher at my old school, that's for sure."

"I hadn't a clue what I wanted," Ron said, slipping his keys into his pocket.  "I answered an advert in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies.  I thought I'd at least be able to tell Mum I was going for interviews, but honestly - I reckoned I was going to end up stacking shelves for Fred and George.  I failed the Ministry entrance exam, you know, and I thought Mum was going to go spare."

"Funny how life works out," Harry said ruefully.  "What did your mum think when you got taken on by Cleansweep?"

"She wasn't best impressed by the money, but she said it was better than nothing and maybe something better would come along later."  Ron grinned.  "She kept on at me to study for the Ministry in my spare time, but sod that - I was too knackered at the end of the day.  The bloke who trained me had a theory that the best way to stop apprentices skiving was to keep them running around all day and not give them time to think.  Maybe I should try that with Alfred.  Anyway, what with that and helping Luna clear out the old _Quibbler_ offices, I didn't have time or energy to do anything but sleep when I was at home.  Besides, I didn't really want to work for the Ministry."

"I can't imagine you in an office job," Harry remarked.  "Oh well, it all worked out for the best, as Remus says.  Are you up for dinner tonight?  I picked up some duck earlier - I thought we might grill it for a change."

"Sorry, mate.  I can't."  And Ron looked genuinely regretful.  "I promised I'd be home tonight.  Gareth's bringing his girl around and I told him I'd help cook.  Maybe another time?"

"Of course!"  Harry grinned at him and they parted ways.

 

xXx

 

Harry tumbled out of the kitchen fireplace at the Burrow the following day and walked straight into the kind of scene that had made his visits to the house memorable when he was a boy.  Various members of the family were standing around the kitchen looking angry or upset, while a furious Molly slammed pots and pans around and ranted at the top of her voice.

" … AND NO MONEY, NO DECENT PROSPECTS - WHERE DO THEY THINK THEY'RE GOING TO LIVE, ANSWER ME THAT!"

Harry looked around, astonished.  Arthur was sitting at the table, his forehead in his hand and tight stress lines around his mouth.  Next to him sat Ginny, eyes flashing, looking as though she was just waiting for an opportunity to leap in and shout back at her mother; her husband, Luca, had retreated to the farthest point from both wife and mother-in-law and was skulking in the doorway.  If any of the children were present, they had already fled and Harry felt grateful that Sirius was out with his friends that day, instead of accompanying him.

Ron was standing by the kitchen sink, arms folded across his chest and jaw clenched tightly.  His face was as white as milk, but his ears - always the best indicator of his mood - were a fiery red.

Harry looked at him, and as soon as Molly paused for breath he said, "I got your message, but when I got to your place the clock said you were here …."

Molly turned on her son before he could reply.

"And I suppose you've already told _Harry_ about this, haven't you!" she shouted.  "Instead of discussing it with your _family_ \- "

"Don't start taking your temper out on Harry, Molly," Arthur put in sharply, raising his head for a moment. 

"Harry doesn't know a damn thing about it," Ron added curtly.  "I haven't had a chance to tell him tell him yet!"

Harry raised his brows and dug his hands into his pockets, trying to project calm even though he was frankly agog at this scene.

"Tell me what?" he asked Ron mildly.

Ron looked tired, fed up and discouraged - all expressions that Harry saw in his eyes all too frequently when dealing with his mother.

"Gareth and Lydia are getting engaged," he replied.  "They told me last night."

Harry blinked.  "But that's a good thing, isn't it?  They've been seeing each other long enough …."

Molly's rage burst out all over again.  "A GOOD THING?" she shrieked.  "A GOOD THING?  AT THEIR AGE AND - "

"He's twenty-two, Mum!" Ginny snapped.  "It's not like they're kids just out of school, without jobs!"

" - NO MORE COMMON SENSE THAN A PAIR OF GEESE, AND _SHE'S_ NO BETTER THAN SHE OUGHT TO BE - "

"Molly …." Arthur protested wearily.

Harry looked at Ron, perplexed.  "What's wrong with Lydia?  I thought you all liked her?"

"We do," Ginny replied for her brother, grimly.  "Mum's changed her mind now, though, because Lydia is pregnant."

Ah.  Molly's reaction began to make sense.  Harry looked at Ron with wry sympathy.

"Congratulations, mate."

"She's trapped him good and proper!" Molly was raging.  "The poor lad has barely started out in life - still hasn't settled into a proper profession yet - and now she's tied this burden around his neck and he'll never have a chance!"

Harry couldn't decide whether to laugh or be annoyed by this.

"Last I heard, it took two people to make a baby," he remarked.  "So whatever the situation, it's as much his responsibility as hers, and I know Gareth well enough to know he'll see it the same way."

"Nonsense!" Molly snapped.  "It's a woman's responsibility to make sure she doesn't end up in that situation, and if she had a shred decency about her she wouldn't have let things go that far before they were married!"

That _did_ annoy Harry.

"Codswallop!" he said curtly.  "I got into the same situation with Sirius's mother, but while I might have my differences with her now, it would never have occurred to me to blame her for something we were both responsible for!"

If it came to that, Bill and Hermione had screwed up in much the same way only the year before, but Harry decided not to remind Molly of that.  He didn't think it would help her temper much.

"That's nothing to be proud of, Harry Potter!" Molly said, pointing a sharp finger at him.

"I shouldn't be proud of Sirius?" he demanded.

"I'm not saying anything about him, poor mite, it's hardly his fault that he was born out of wedlock -"

"Just as well, because it's none of your business," Harry told her flatly, taking the wind out of her sails with the frankness of this statement.  "If it's anyone's business, it's that of Cleone's parents and of Sirius himself.  And since I'm being honest with you, Mrs. Weasley, the situation with Gareth and Lydia is none of your business either."

"I beg your pardon!" she spluttered.

"Harry …." Ron said quietly.

Harry ignored him for the moment.

"If it's anyone's business, it's Ron's and Lydia's parents'.  Not yours - not unless Gareth chooses to involve you, and since he isn't here right now I think it's safe to assume that he doesn't."

"Which is what I've been trying to say," Arthur said into the sudden silence.  He looked at Harry.  "Although if _you'll_ pardon me saying so, Harry, it's none of your business either."

Harry accepted the rebuff philosophically.  He had knowingly overstepped the boundaries of politeness by saying what he had to Mrs. Weasley, and while he didn't regret it - it was worth it just to make her stop blindly ranting and think about what she was saying - it was only to be expected that he should pay for taking the liberty by being ejected from the conversation.

"Of course," he said apologetically to Ron's father.  "I'm sorry; I'll take my leave."  He looked across at Ron.  "I'll be at home if you want me, mate."

"I'll be over later," Ron replied gratefully.

There was nothing more to be said.  Harry nodded to Ginny and Luca, bowed politely to Arthur and Molly, and Apparated himself back to the house at Grimmauld Place.

 

xXx

 

Sirius appeared at the house briefly for dinner, before disappearing out with his friends again.

"What's going on?" he wanted to know when he saw Harry watching the clock.

"I'm waiting for Ron," Harry replied.  He helped Sirius assemble a salad.  "There's a been a bit of a row with his family."

"That his mum again?" the boy asked, interested. 

"You noticed?" Harry asked, a little amused.  Sirius could be very perceptive about people, although he generally kept his observations to himself.

"She kicks off almost as much as _Maman_ ," Sirius said with a grin. 

"She's a good person."

"Yeah.  She mostly yells for a reason."  Sirius stirred the bowl of salad dressing idly, watching the herbs swirl through it.  "So what's wrong this time?"

"Well … Gareth wants to get married and Mrs. Weasley isn't too happy about it."

"Why not?"

"She thinks he's too young," Harry said carefully.  Sirius's expression suggested that he didn't think much of this as a reason.  "And, well, apparently Gareth's girlfriend is pregnant too."

"What did he go and do that for?"  Sirius demanded.  Clearly Gareth had just lost something in his estimation.  "Stupid!"

"I don't think it was deliberate," Harry replied wryly.  He waved his wand at the salad bowl and plates and they transferred themselves to the table.

"That's crap!" Sirius said, with the lofty, self-righteous scorn of a sixteen-year-old.  "I knew about contraceptive charms when I was _twelve!_ "

Which was perfectly true, but this was largely because Harry (who had been raised by relatives who didn't care and consequently received his sex education in a roundabout way from several occasionally conflicting sources) had been determined that his son would be educated on the subject as soon and as comprehensively as he could manage.  He suspected that Ron had delivered the information to Gareth in a more traditional manner and while he strongly doubted that his friend's son was at all ignorant, his attitude towards sex was probably rather different.  In fact, having known Gareth for four years now, Harry was willing to lay a substantial sum of money on it; he was a quiet, studious, responsible young man and those, in Harry's experience, were often the kind to be taken by surprise, both by sex and its consequences, for while they might know the theory inside out they rarely planned for the actuality.

"The knowledge doesn't always match up to the practice, Squirt," he said, with a sigh.

"Stoooopid," Sirius repeated, unimpressed.

"I hate to point this out but it was a similar mistake on my part that resulted in _you_ , so don't knock it until you've been there!"

"Yeah, but the only person traumatised about me was _Maman_ ," Sirius pointed out, taking his seat at the table.  "What's Mrs. Weasley's problem?  I mean, they're getting married anyway.  I would've thought she'd like having great-grandkids."

"And she probably will, once she's got over the shock.  I'm not worried about her."  Harry turned his lettuce over with his fork unenthusiastically.  "It's Ron I'm worried about."

"Why?"

"Well ... I shouldn't say this, but he gets a lot of grief from his mum."

"I noticed," Sirius said, rolling his eyes.

"And then there's Gareth - he's not earning a lot at the moment, so he really doesn't need to be stuck with a wife, a kid and a house right now."  Harry sighed.  "I mean, I don't agree with ranting about it like Mrs. Weasley does, because it's done and there's nothing to be done about it.  But I can understand _why_ she's upset.  As for Gareth's girlfriend, Lydia ...."

"Stupid," Sirius said again.

"She's not stupid, Squirt, she's very intelligent.  They both are."

"So?"  Sirius suddenly switched to French, mimicking his grandfather's voice with eerie accuracy.  "What use are the brains God gave you, if you have no common sense?  Hm?"  He reverted to English.  "Besides, her brother's in my year at school and _he's_ about as thick as you can get."

"Well, someone in the family had to get all the brains - "  Harry stopped and shook his head.  "I shouldn't be having this conversation with you!  It's none of our business anyway."

"It is if it puts Ron off his grub," Sirius pointed out.

Harry looked at him, amused.  "We're not married, you know!"

Sirius sniggered.  "Yeah, right!  On what planet?"

Harry wondered what made his son say that, when he and Ron didn't live together or even really see each other as much as they would like.  Given just how perceptive the teenager could be - and Harry never underestimated him in that regard - he wondered what odd signals he and Ron must be giving out that the boy saw but they were oblivious to.  Admittedly they had been seeing each other for four years now and their relationship had settled into a comfortable groove of regular, pre-arranged meetings and dinner dates during term time, and school holidays spent mostly in each other's company.  There had even been one very enjoyable Christmas together in Venice which Harry hoped to repeat at some point.  All four of their children knew about them and appeared to have no problem with it (Gareth had looked mildly surprised when informed, the twins Walter and Marius had shrugged and said that they'd already worked it out for themselves, and Sirius had been in on the 'secret' right from the start), but it had to be said that neither Harry nor Ron had gone out of their way to enlighten the greater number of their families and friends.  A few definitely knew; most, including Ron's mother, did not.

It occurred to Harry now that this latter detail might be why he, at least, persisted in thinking of the two of them as something other than a "couple" - that and the fact that they didn't live together.  And now was definitely not the time to start thinking about it, when Ron had more than enough on his plate without having to contemplate telling his mother that he was involved with another man. 

A little later, when they were washing up the dishes, Harry suddenly remembered something from their conversation that had been bothering him at the back of his mind.  He turned to Sirius and said quickly, "Look, Squirt, when you were born - you may have been unplanned, but it doesn't make any difference, you know.  I don't want you to think you weren't wanted.  You were the best thing that ever happened to me and still are."

Sirius gave him a horrified look.  "Dad, will you give it a rest?  You'll be _hugging_ me next, and that sort of thing's not on!"

 

xXx

 

"I know what Mum's getting at," Ron said quietly.

He turned up at Grimmauld Place in the evening, much later than Harry had expected him and smelling, to Harry's surprise, of brandy.  This was explained when Ron said that he'd been visiting his father-in-law, to break the news to him.  Laurence Lovegood had decided that the situation warranted a couple of shots.

"She was worrying about where they'll live, since the pair of them aren't making enough to buy a house without a lot of help.  She worried about the same thing with Luna and me, but Luna's dad knew the previous owner of our house and we were able to wrangle a deal.  Still … Laurie was in a position to help us out financially as well.  _The Quibbler_ was doing really well after the war, what with people losing faith in the _Prophet_.  I don't know if I can do the same, though."

Harry could see what Ron meant.  He was at a time in his life when he was finally financially comfortable; he had a steady job, the house had only recently been paid off, and all three of his sons had left school and were working.  He had been looking forward to varying his lifestyle a little, especially as the twins had moved out a couple of months previously, finding themselves a flat to rent, and he was left with just Gareth still at home.  He had not been expecting to have to help support another young family.

"I told Mum that if the worst came to the worst, Lydia and Gareth could live with me," he continued.  "There's plenty of room with the twins gone, although it'll be a problem if either of them ever wants to come home to live - and I told them both before they left that they could if they needed to."  He paused and shook his head.  "I don't know, though.  I don't know that it would work, Harry.  I never wanted to live with my parents or in-laws myself, and speaking from my own point of view, I'm pretty set in my ways these days.  I don't know that I'd be as capable of sharing as they'd need me to be, and with a new baby … well, I did all that years ago.  I don't know if I could do it again."

"It's a common arrangement abroad," Harry told him.  "It's only us northern Europeans who live separated from our families.  In southern Europe and the East it's perfectly normal for whole extended families to live under one roof and in terribly cramped conditions sometimes."

"Yeah, but I've done that as well," Ron pointed out, smiling with an effort.  "Until Charlie moved out I shared a room with Percy, when we were kids.  I like having space to breathe these days."

"Oh, I understand what you're saying," Harry said.  "And for what it's worth, I agree with you.  From what I saw of some of those households when I lived abroad, I have to say that there seemed to be a lot of underlying tension.  The lack of privacy alone must be terribly stressful."

"Well, it was pretty stressful for us, I can tell you."  Ron scrubbed his face with a hand.  He looked exhausted and Harry hated the worry lines that had already appeared on his forehead and were making him look prematurely like his father.  "I dunno what else we can do, though.  They could rent somewhere, I suppose, but a place big enough for three of them would cost almost as much as a mortgage and I reckon it's throwing money into a bottomless pit when you're raising a family.  At least when you buy you can see some return at the end of it, but there's no way they can afford a mortgage.  You know what house prices are like now, Harry."

"What about Lydia's family?" Harry asked carefully.  "Can they help?"

Ron snorted.  "I went over there last night.  Her dad died a couple of years ago - something to do with an old war wound, he was an Auror - and her mum's a stay-at-home mother like mine, only that's where the resemblance ends.  If _my_ mother was suddenly widowed, she'd do her best to support herself - in fact, she did childminding and home schooling for little 'uns when we were kids, to help make ends meet.  Lydia's mother ... well, let's just say that the mystery of why Lydia's always so short of cash has been solved."

"Oh, crap," Harry said feelingly.

"Yeah.  But there's one consolation - when Lydia and Gareth get married, that'll have to stop.  Even if they end up living with me, I won't have her sponging off the pair of them."

"Or you!" Harry said sharply, and Ron laughed humourlessly.

"No fear!  I'm a bit smarter than that these days!  She gets a widow's pension from the Aurors and she's fit, healthy and nowhere near her dotage.  She'll have to learn to manage, like the rest of us."

There was a long pause.  Finally Harry said, "Do you really think it'll come to that?  Them living with you?"

He felt selfish for it, but he couldn't help thinking that it would put a significant crimp in his relationship with Ron if that was the case.  Only an idiot would assume that having the pair of them living in the house wouldn't change how Ron arranged his own life.

"Right now, I can't see what else we can do," Ron said wearily.  "I just don't know, Harry - I'm knackered and I've had people shouting at me and talking at me all day, until I don't know which way is up anymore.  All I know is that I can't see another way around it right now."

"Then don't think about it anymore tonight," Harry said at once.  "Get some sleep and leave it till tomorrow.  It's not like any decisions have to be made _immediately_ after all."

"Yeah … yeah, I'll do that."  Ron rubbed his face again and sat up.  "Look, mate – would you mind much if I went home tonight?  I don't reckon I'd be much company and I think I just need to be on my own for a while."

"Of course I don't mind!  Just …."  Harry gave him a wry smile.  "Remember I'm here if you need me, okay?  Even if it's the middle of the night.  The wards are always open to you."

"Yeah, I know.  And it's appreciated, believe me."

Ron wavered for a second on the brink of the fireplace, but then he seemed to pull himself together, gave Harry a weak grin and stepped into the Floo.

When he was gone, Harry wavered himself a little in the middle of the drawing room.  Then he sighed and went to get himself a drink.

 

xXx

 

Harry had been half-expecting Ron to come back during the night, but he wasn't particularly surprised when he didn't.  They were both grown men, after all, and grown men didn't wake in the middle of the night and jump into the Floo to their boyfriend's house just because of a family upheaval.

What _did_ come as a surprise was the sound of the Floo as he and Sirius ate their breakfast together in sleepy but companionable silence the following morning.  Clearly it was someone who knew them both rather well, for instead of calling out the visitor headed straight for the kitchen stairs, and moments later Hermione walked into the room, looking entirely too awake for Harry's liking at such an early hour.

"You heard, then?" he said, unsurprised, and he charmed a third mug off the hook above the range to pour her a cup of coffee.

"Ginny Floo-called me yesterday evening," she said, taking a seat and reaching out to ruffle Sirius's bed-head affectionately.  She glanced around.  "Ron isn't here, then?"

"No – he came over for a couple of hours last night then went home," Harry replied.

"I'm not surprised.  Poor Ron – why do these things always seem to happen to him?"

"I was wondering that," Harry said, "in between wondering what on earth they're going to do."

"Let me guess," Hermione said dryly.  "He's already come to the conclusion that there's nothing for it but to let the pair of them live with him?"

"Something like that," Harry agreed.

"Well, that's ridiculous," she said flatly.  "Have you met Lydia's mother?  I'm willing to bet that within six months she'll have moved in with them too.  She's the sort to do it and Gareth won't have a clue how to stop her, let alone Ron."

"Is there anybody's business in wizarding Britain that you don't know about?" Harry asked her mildly.

"I talk to people, Harry.  It's a really effective way of getting information – you should try it sometime."

"You could talk to Gareth and Lydia then," Sirius suggested to Hermione.  "You and Bill didn't get married, so why do they have to?"

"And how are Bill and Morag?" Harry added, stifling the grin that always wanted to leap onto his face when he thought of Hermione and Bill and their little bundle of joy, who had made her unexpected appearance into the world twelve months previously.

"One word - teething," Hermione said succinctly.  "Need I say more?"

"Not to me.  Of course, I've suppressed the memory of the sleepless nights and endless drool."

"There's no point in talking to someone like Gareth if he's already made up his mind to get married," Hermione told Sirius.  "And I'm sure he has.  But it is a very silly situation for everyone concerned."

"'Silly' isn't the word I would have chosen," Harry said.  "'Frustrating' perhaps."

"Hm."  Hermione gave him an intent look.  "So – what are you going to do about it?"

"Eh?"  Harry blinked.  "What am I _supposed_ to do about it?  As Mr. Weasley reminded me yesterday, strictly speaking it's none of my business.

"Bollocks," Hermione said delicately, and Sirius erupted into laughter.  "Do everyone a favour, please, Sirius.  Don't grow up as clueless as your father."

"No fear!" he managed between guffaws.

"Enlighten me," Harry said irritably.  "In what way am I being clueless?"

"Oh honestly, Harry!" she said sharply.  "You can't tell me you're happy at the idea of Ron's life being overrun by Gareth, Lydia and a new baby.  What on earth do you think it's going to do to your relationship with him?  You already spend seventy percent of your life in Scotland while he lives and works in the south, and while spending the holidays and occasional weekend together might work for you now, you mark my words – once that baby arrives, you'll find it a lot harder to schedule time together.  He'll be on the spot and available to the pair of them, and he'll find it very hard to come up with excuses not to baby-sit his grandchild when he's living in the same house.  And that's just the tip of the iceberg, believe me."

"What am I supposed to do?" Harry demanded.  "I can understand the position he's in!  They can't afford to buy a place of their own and I'm entirely in sympathy with him when he says that renting would be a pretty poor deal for them.  And it's nearly impossible for him to make excuses when he has a house with more than enough space to accommodate them all.  So what's _he_ supposed to do?"

"One would hope that his significant other of several years would grow up a bit and propose," Hermione said acidly.

Harry, caught in the middle of a mouthful of tea, made a very nasty mess on the table.  "We had this conversation back in the beginning," he managed, once the spilled tea was mopped up and he had recovered a little.  "And for your information, it was Ron who told me that he wasn't looking to get married again."

"That was four years ago and you hadn't been back in the country for more than six months at the time," Hermione retorted.  "Seeing that you disappeared and spent the previous twenty years effectively dead so far as any of us knew, is it any surprise that he didn't want to rush into anything with you at that point?"

Harry tried to gather himself together.  "Do we have to have this conversation in front of Sirius?"

"Yes," she said flatly.  "He's sixteen now, and in any case he has a right to be involved, given the topic under discussion.  Don't you think?"

Harry looked at Sirius, who looked back at him. 

He sighed.  "Yes, of course.  What am I thinking?  Sorry, Squirt."

"S'okay.  He hasn't had his shower yet," Sirius added in an aside to Hermione.  "He's always a bit stupid and grumpy until he's dressed."

"Thank you for that ringing endorsement which, it so happens, is also true."  Harry gave Hermione a rueful look.  "Put the kettle on.  I'll see you in the drawing room in twenty minutes."

When he returned to the drawing room, clean, shaved and feeling more secure in a fresh white linen shirt and jeans, Sirius and Hermione were talking about the teenager's OWL results.  Hermione gave Harry a look of brisk approval as she poured him a mug of tea.

"That's better.  Now, I was thinking about this last night and had a talk about it with Bill, and here's what I think might be a possible solution if you and Ron, and Gareth and Lydia, are all prepared to go along with it ...."

 

xXx

 

Later, when Hermione had left and Sirius had gone off on a day-long expedition with his friends, Harry went outside to the back garden and sat on the patch of overgrown grass there to think.  At intervals he threw a ball for Scruffy, the rescued lurcher who went almost everywhere with him, but mostly he sat cross-legged and thought over everything that had been said.

And after a couple of hours he got up, brushed himself off, snapped his fingers for Scruffy to follow him, and went back into the house to get an outdoor robe.  He needed to visit Ron.

 

xXx

 

"Run that past me again," Ron said in a deceptively mild tone.

"I will, if you'll remember that you promised to hear me out completely before you start yelling," Harry replied rather defensively.

Ron raised his hands.  "All right, all right!  I just – no, go on."

"Sirius and I want you to consider coming to live with us, and letting Gareth and Lydia have the house to themselves," Harry repeated.  "Obviously there's more to it than that, but that's the basic outline."

"And you want me to do that – why?"

"Because I happen to be very attached to you?" Harry offered.  "Because I hate the idea of you being dragged back into parenting just when you're getting used to being a dizzy bachelor again?  Because I'm selfish and I want you all to myself – don't look at me like that!"

Ron snorted and sat back.  "And you've talked to Sirius about this?"

"Well, yeah.  Not that I really needed to.  He gave me one of those teenager looks – two parts boredom to one part disbelief, _you_ know the one – and pointed out that he prefers you to the mother he already has.  Make of that what you will."

Ron was surprised into a laugh.  "Yeah, I can just hear him saying it!"  He seemed to think about it for all of thirty seconds, then shook his head.  "No, Harry, I can't do it."

"No?  Why not?"  Harry had expected some resistance to the idea, but not a flat refusal.

"For a lot of reasons.  It wouldn't be right – "

"You sound like your mother.  But it's okay – if you're worrying about being a kept man, I promise to screw rent out of you at regular intervals.  Emphasis on "screw" if you like."

Ron shot him an annoyed look.  "There's Gareth and Lydia – I can't leave them to deal with all of this on their own."

"Why not?"

"Eh?"  Ron looked at him blankly.

"Why not?" Harry repeated.  "You and Luna had to deal with it all on your own."

"That was different!"

"How?"

"My parents and Luna's father helped us out – "

"And what'll stop you helping them out?"  Harry raised his brows.  "It wouldn't be any different if they found a place of their own.  You'll still be there to help them if they needed it, but you won't be so close to hand that they can take you for granted."

"Hm."  Ron gave him a suspicious look.  "What about the twins?  I promised they could come home to live again if they needed to.  That'll be a bit of a problem if the house is Gareth and Lydia's."

"You reckon Gareth wouldn't want his brothers living in the house?"

"Would you?" Ron asked frankly.

He had a point, Harry had to admit.  They weren't as bad as their uncles, but the twins could be still be pests in their own right.  Still -

"There's a quite a bit of room in Grimmauld Place.  I think we could handle it."

"Have you got an answer for everything?"

"Quite possibly."

"Sounds like you've been talking to Hermione," Ron said bluntly.

"Quite possibly," Harry admitted wryly.

Ron got up and began to pace the shaggy carpet on his living room floor restlessly.  "I might have known she was involved.  I'll tell you straight that I'm not interested in any scheme she had to persuade you to take on."

"You think she had to persuade me?" Harry asked levelly.

Ron stopped and gave him a long look, before saying reluctantly, "Yeah.  Sorry, mate, but I do."

"Based on what evidence?"

"What do you mean?"

Harry made an exasperated sound in his throat.  "Ron, don't be a pillock!  Since when has Hermione been able to persuade me to do anything?  Especially lately?  And are you going to reject the idea out of hand just because it was something she came up with?"

"It's not that!" Ron said sharply.  "Look, I know she means well, okay?  But she interferes, she can't help herself sometimes, and yes, I think she could persuade you to do quite a lot of things if she put her mind to it.  But I'm not refusing to consider it because it's her idea.  I'm refusing it because it's you suggesting it."

That hurt.  Harry didn't know why it should, but it definitely hurt. 

"I'll make sure Hermione knows she should have approached you directly," he said unsteadily, and he got up to go.

"Oh, Harry."  Ron reached out to grab his sleeve.  "Look, I know you meant it for the best – "

"You know, I'd rather you didn't finish that sentence," Harry interrupted sharply. 

Ron's hand dropped.  "I'd better talk to Hermione," he said in a flattened tone.

"That's up to you," Harry replied.  "But before you do, you might want to remember that if she _was_ interfering, it's because she cares about you, Ron.  It wasn't some random act of meddling.  As for you refusing it because it's _me_ –" he couldn't stop the anger entering his voice "- presumably you'll tell me what that's about sometime, because I don't know what you mean by it."

"It's too much like humouring me, Harry!" Ron said, growing angry too.  "The pair of you banding together to sort me out for my own good, like I can't manage my own affairs – it's patronising, dammit."

"What the hell - ?  How is it patronising to offer you an alternative to premature grandparenting?"

"I don't recall the pair of you inviting me to join in your little conference about my personal business!" Ron snapped.  "You just sat down and sorted it out between you without stopping to ask for my input or find out how I felt about it – you know, my dad was right yesterday, it's none of your business!  It's my problem for me to sort out.  I don't need or want you or Hermione arranging my life for me, let alone my kid's lives."

The rational part of Harry's mind understood that what Ron was saying to him wasn't as important as the reasons for him saying it; somehow his pride, which had always been touchy and sensitive, had been hurt and he was lashing out because of it.  That didn't change the fact that the words cut deeply, though.

"In that case, it looks like there's nothing more to be said," Harry told him curtly.  "Come on, Scruffy."

Ordinarily he would have Apparated himself and the dog back to Grimmauld Place directly, but today he snapped Scruffy's lead on and left by the front door.  Ron's house was on the edges of a small, rural Dorset village and Harry spent nearly an hour walking his anger into submission before finding a quiet corner away from the nearest road where he could crouch down and hold Scruffy's paw to Apparate them both.

When he got back to the house, to his dismay he found not only Sirius there, but also Hermione and Ron's sister Ginny.  All three of them looked up eagerly when he walked into the drawing room, and Sirius immediately asked "Is he moving in with us, then?"

There was no way Harry wanted to discuss what had just happened with Ron.  He wasn't ready to face it himself and faced with the prospect of an inquisition into the whole business, for the first time in years he abandoned the teachings of his Nepalese mentor and lied. 

"Actually, I changed my mind," he said calmly as he stooped to unclip Scruffy's lead.  It was rather disconcerting to find even the dog giving him a reproachful look.

"You changed your mind?" Hermione said, frowning.  "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I changed my mind."  Harry began to strip off his outdoor robe.  He threw it over the back of a spare chair.  "I had a think about it and decided it wasn't such a good idea after all."

"Oh."  She looked thoroughly taken aback.  "That's … well, I thought it was all arranged."

"Yes, I know.  I'm sorry."

There was a sticky pause.

"What's Ron planning to do, then?" Ginny asked finally.

"I've no idea."  And that at least was true.

"So where have you been?" Sirius asked his father.

Harry looked at him and realised that while he might – _might_ – have fooled the two women, he certainly hadn't fooled his son.

"I took the dog for a walk," he said, and he turned away quickly.  "Anyone for tea?"

 

xXx

 

Sirius didn't ask what had really happened, which was a relief to Harry, although his silence on the subject was uncomfortably pointed.  But life carried on as usual – albeit without Ron's presence. 

The summer was drawing to a close; within a week Sirius had received his usual letter from Hogwarts notifying him of the book and equipment requirements for his sixth year.  His OWL results had arrived a few weeks previously and he had achieved a respectable eight passes, four at O level (one of which was DADA, a fact that had Harry jigging in private glee in the kitchen when he found out), and he was planning to take six NEWTs. 

At the same time Harry was assembling his lesson plans and making note of the equipment and books he would need for the coming term.  He had already notified Flourish and Blotts of the year's required textbooks, but there were a number of books he would be using in addition that weren't on the syllabus, and while he could have borrowed some of them from the school library, Harry had found it easier to buy them rather than wrangle with the librarian.  And at least one volume, a perfectly innocuous tome, had somehow ended up on the Ministry's banned publications list, so Remus Lupin was sourcing it for Harry through private channels.

Under the circumstances they made two trips to Diagon Alley, one to collect all of Sirius's gear,  including his new robes and Quidditch kit, and another to buy Harry's crate of books and other equipment.  Then Harry made a third, solitary trip to retrieve his contraband book from Lupin, on the solid principle that while he might think the ban on it ridiculous, only an irresponsible parent would make his teenaged son an accessory to the crime of possessing it.  Just to be on the safe side, Harry paid a visit to Quality Quidditch Supplies first, with the result that when he stopped off for a spot of lunch at the Crup and Jarvey, the nefarious volume was concealed inside a parcel of official Quidditch Referee's robes.

It was only when Harry turned away from the bar, juggling his parcel, a tankard of beer and a plate piled high with crab salad sandwiches, that he saw Ron sitting in his usual spot in the corner of the pub.  He was alone – which admittedly was not unusual – and looking a little fed up as he picked at his beans on toast.

After a moment's hesitation, Harry inched his way over there between the crowded tables.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked, and Ron looked up, startled.

"Oh – hullo!  I didn't see you come in.  Here, give me that …."  Ron took the parcel from him and tucked it under his chair.  "What the devil's in it?" he asked, as he gave the other chair at his table a shove with one foot so that Harry could sit on it.  "Weighs a tonne!"

"It's a copy of the _Wizard's Annotated Grimm's Fairytales_ ," Harry replied.  "Don't shout about it, though.  There's a fifty Galleon fine if I'm caught in possession of it."

Ron stared at him.  "Are you winding me up?"

"Nope.  It was banned by the Ministry about ten years ago, God knows why.  It's stupid, because the Committee for International Standards in Magical Education list it as a useful reference book for Muggle Studies and DADA teachers.  Remus has been trying to get hold of an English language copy for me for months."

"I reckon some of the Ministry people are hired just to think up stupid rules," Ron grumbled.

"Wouldn't surprise me."  Harry took a long swallow of his beer, watching Ron poking at his beans.  "So.  How are you?"

"I'm okay," Ron said after a noticeable hesitation.  He stirred his beans with his fork rather listlessly.  "What about you?"

"Savouring my last few days of freedom before I have to think about shipping everything up to Hogwarts and closing up the house.  Can I ask you to keep an eye on it as usual?"

"Of course.  You didn't have to ask."

It was on the tip of Harry's tongue to say that he rather thought he _did_ have to ask after their last conversation, but before he could say anything Ron spoke.

"Look, mate, I want to apologise about the other day," he said uncomfortably.  "You – you caught me on the raw, but that's no excuse for me taking my temper out on you."

The tight knot of anxiety that had been wedged under Harry's ribs for over a week dissolved.  "Ron, it's okay.  My own common sense should have told me that just plonking it all down in front of you like a _fait accompli_ was the wrong thing to do.  It's arrogant – "

"But you did it for all the right reasons," Ron said, giving him a tired smile.  "And I know Hermione only meant well by it too.  It's just …."  He put his fork down and shoved his plate away, and after a tiniest hesitation leaned forward on his elbows and rubbed his eyes wearily.  Harry noted that the worry lines on his face hadn't gone away.  "It was a bit hard to take after listening to my dad trying to come up with ways the family could help them get the money together to buy a house, and then getting the same thing from Luna's dad.  I felt about twelve years old, Harry, like I had no money and wasn't in control of my life all over again.  At one point Mum and Dad were talking over my head as though I had no say in it at all, and I know they didn't mean it like that but it really grated on me all the same.  And then you walked in and – " 

He stopped and Harry saw his ears turning pink, although his eyes met Harry's squarely. 

"Don't take this the wrong way, mate, but after listening to all that, you walked in and dumped _your_ suggestion on top of me and it just – it was a bit too much like the rich man dishing out charity.  And I'm used to sorting out my own messes, you know?  It was pretty hard to take, even though I know you didn't mean it like that at all."

"The funny thing," Harry observed wryly, "is that I sat and thought about it all for ages before I came to see you.  A pity I didn't think a bit more about how to present it to you, although come to think of it, at least I had the sense to go to your place instead of summoning you to Grimmauld Place to talk about it.  That would have been the icing on the cake."

Ron let out a weary chuckle and they both relaxed a little.

"So have you decided anything yet?" Harry asked eventually.

Ron shrugged.  "What's to decide?  It's not like there are a lot of options.  Mum and Dad talked about scraping together enough money to give Gareth and Lydia a small loan, but the fact is that they've not long been in the black with their own financial situation, so I'm not about to let the pair of them hand over what little bit of savings they've got.  It's not like Gareth's their only grandkid, after all.  And while Laurie Lovegood's a bit better off, I reckon he did his bit with me and Luna."

"So you're still planning to let them live with you?"

Ron shrugged again, but didn't say anything.  Harry, watching his face carefully as he dug into his own lunch, wondered if it was worth taking the risk of raising the subject again.  There wouldn't be a better time to try … although it might end with them not speaking to each other again until the Christmas break.

"Look," he said finally, bracing himself inwardly.  "Maybe I went about it all the wrong way last time, but the offer's still on the table.  And it's not charity."

"Harry – "

"Hear me out, will you?  Please?"

Ron subsided and waved a resigned hand for him to continue.

"It's not out of charity," Harry repeated.  "I _do_ want us to live together.  Maybe it took Hermione  whacking me upside of the head to make me do something about it, but sometimes she _is_ right!  Not all of the time, but you've got to admit that she knows the two of us pretty well.  And so does Sirius, incidentally – he cottoned on to the idea well before I did, although I suppose it's good to know that _someone_ in the family inherited my mother's brains."

Ron grinned a little at this, but wasn't deflected.  "Yeah, but Harry – "

"Hang on.  I think I know what's bothering you, and if you think I'm trying to offer you a free meal-ticket, then I'm not.  I'm not suggesting you should be some kind of lodger with bed privileges either.  I've never considered our relationship as anything other than a partnership, and I'm pretty sure you know that.  Don't you?"

"I wouldn't accept anything else," Ron said quietly.

"Good.  Neither would I."  Harry paused to take a swallow of his beer, watching Ron's face over the top of the glass.  A little more of the tension seemed to have drained away, to his relief.  "Did you talk to Hermione at all?" he asked.

Ron shook his head.  "I didn't feel like another shouting match."

"Probably just as well."  Harry took another sip, then put his tankard down.  "She might have sorted out my head for me, but this is our business at the end of the day.  She's a practical person, though, and she knew exactly where the sticking points were.  One of the things we talked about was how you'd feel about letting Gareth and Lydia just take over your house if you moved in with Sirius and me.  It wouldn't be very fair on Walter and Marius, would it?"

"Bloody unfair," Ron said.  "Like I told you before, I told the twins they would always have a room with me if they had any problems and wanted to move home again.  But Gareth has never really got on that well with them and I reckon Lydia wouldn't take kindly to the pair of them inviting themselves back into the house.  And it's hardly fair for them to be renting a flat out of their own pockets when Gareth gets the house gratis."

"So don't give him the house," Harry said.  "Hermione said pretty much the same thing that you just did, only she tacked on a few things about Lydia's mother and the damage a free ride does to people's attitudes towards money.  So she suggested that maybe they could rent the house from you."

"She's suggesting I should make money off my son and daughter-in-law?"

Harry gave him a patient look and after a moment or two Ron got it.

"I could bank the money and give it them as a present later on."

"Maybe as a deposit on a house of their own when they're earning enough to afford a mortgage," Harry agreed.  "So what do you reckon?"

Ron sat back and stared blankly across the busy pub for a long while.  Finally he said, "But is this what you really want, Harry?"

"Yes."  Harry studied him for a moment.  "But maybe I'm looking at this the wrong way.  After I came back to England, you were the one who said you weren't looking to get married again.  I'm pushing this as something I want, but maybe you don't.  Is that what it is?"

"No – "  Ron sighed.  "Not exactly.  It's a lot to get my head around.  If I do this it means moving away from a place I've lived in for over twenty years, _my_ place, and sharing space with someone again.  I've got used to being a widower.  And if I move in with you, there'll probably be more questions from people about us.  To be honest, I don't know how I feel about that."

"You'd have to tell your mum," Harry agreed.  "How do you feel about that?"

"She won't like it," Ron said frankly.  "She still hasn't totally accepted Charlie being gay."

"What about your dad?"

Ron paused, considering.  "Funnily enough, I think he'd be okay about it.  But he's always been more accepting about things than Mum."

"The more important question is how _you_ feel about it," Harry pointed out after a moment.  "If people start asking questions, do you feel up to dealing with them?  To admitting that there's something going on between us?"

There was a longer pause.

"Well, I'm not about to lie about it," Ron said finally.  "I'm not going to hang banners from the roof and take out an advert in the _Prophet_ , but if people find out and don't like it, they can just kiss my … boxers."

Harry swallowed a laugh, feeling something leap in his chest at Ron's rather acid statement.  "'Nicely toned derriere' has a better ring to it," he suggested.

"That too!" Ron said with a snort.

"So – will you think about it?"  Harry raised his brows.  "It's not like you have to make a decision any time soon.  Lydia's not due until, what, April?  There's probably no rush."

"They want to get married in January."

Harry couldn't help thinking that Lydia would have been better off either getting married straight away or waiting until after the baby was born, for she'd be fair size by January, but that side of things was definitely none of his business and nor did he want it to be.

"Good idea; get Christmas over with first," he said briskly.  "Plenty of time to think it over and make your mind up, then."

Ron regarded him for a moment with a fascinated eye.  "Just one question, mate – what about you?"

"What _what_ about me?" Harry asked.

"Well … I don't see what you're getting out of this, to be honest."

"Do you have to ask that after four years?" Harry said, trying not to sound hurt.  "I do happen to like your company, you know!  Quite a lot – more than a lot.  Enough that I'd like to spend more than the odd weekend with you."

"You're still going to be up in Scotland for most of the year," Ron pointed out.

"Yeah, I know, but I'm thinking ahead here.  Sirius has only got two more years to go at school, and I never really considered staying at Hogwarts beyond that."  Harry met his friend's eyes frankly.  "The teaching's been okay – the past couple of years have been great, in fact - but it's not a vocation for me and I think there are other people who could probably do it as well as or better than I do.  As far as education goes, I think there are more useful roles I could be playing."

"You'd better not be about to tell me that you're planning to join the Ministry or run for office," Ron said humorously, although there was an alarmed look in his eye that made Harry laugh.

"Not likely!  No, I was thinking that there are a number of lobbying groups trying to bring about changes at the Ministry, especially in areas like justice and education, and while working from the inside is one way of doing it, I've always been better at waving banners, giving annoying interviews to newspapers and sticking leaflets on parked brooms."

"Now _there's_ an image to juggle with.  Shades of Hermione."

"Not really.  Actually, I'm better at dealing with people behind the scenes, although I _have_ leafleted people in the street on occasion.  And it sounds weird, I know, but I learned a lot about – um – manipulating people during the war."  Harry saw Ron's expression and grinned.  "I know it probably didn't seem like it at the time!  But later on – after I went to Nepal – I learned how to make use of the experience, especially while I was working for the Wizard Relocation Agency.  Trying to get money out of the various ministries to aid poor magical families is worse than trying to get blood out of a stone.  It's been twenty-odd years since the war, after all – there can't _possibly_ be anyone suffering from the effects of it after all this time."  He made a disgusted sound in his throat.  "Anyway, I got good at lobbying people and bugging the hell out of entrenched and unhelpful ministry staff.  I'm especially popular with the French Ministry."  Harry grinned reminiscently.  "They've never been impressed by British Wizards, they certainly weren't impressed by The Boy Who Lived, and to have the grown-up me parked on their doorstep being bright, inquisitive and annoyingly Zen drove them just about nuts."  His smile faltered for a moment.  "That's a trick I learned from Dumbledore.  That sense of humour of his might have seemed hilarious to us as kids, but it infuriated a lot of adults.  I didn't realise until a lot later what a good weapon it could be, especially when it's combined with an absolute refusal to back down."

Ron sat back and looked at Harry, now more than a little bemused.  "So you're planning to take on our Ministry next and reform education?"

"You have to admit it needs to be done," Harry said.  "Dumbledore managed a lot, but it's still hopelessly out of date.  Aside from anything else, the Board of Governors needs to be made more accountable for its actions, instead of a few wealthy families ruling the roost and bullying the others into rubber-stamping things.  The funding system needs overhauling.  The staff rewards and disciplinary system needs looking at, and the salaries for that matter.  The examinations board could benefit from a proper benchmarking exercise involving the other European schools of Classical Magic to see if anything needs updating.  And there need to be alternative educational routes for kids who do badly in OWLs or who simply aren't suited for continuing on to NEWTs.  In fact, I know it's a scary idea for a lot of wizards and witches here, but perhaps we need more than one school of magic in the British Isles and a streaming system to separate out kids who are struggling and give them more directed tutoring.  Do you have any idea how many kids drop out of school as soon as they hit seventeen and then end up drifting into bottom-end employment – why are you looking at me like that?"

Ron laughed and shook his head, raising his hands.  "I believe you, I believe you!  _Hermione._ "

Harry flushed a little but chuckled.  "Yeah, well … I've been seeing it all from the inside for a couple of years and it's starting to annoy me."

"For what it's worth, I think it's a good idea," Ron told him.  "Although I reckon McGonagall will have your balls on a plate for leaving her in the lurch just as she thought she was getting a permanent teacher for the DADA post."

"I've got two years to scout around for a replacement," Harry replied.  "In fact, I've been dropping hints to Hermione.  She'd make a bloody good teacher and I know she's thinking of finding a more settled job while Morag's small.  If it comes to that, Dumbledore set a precedent for job-sharing with Trelawney and Firenze, so I don't see why she and Bill couldn't share the position."

"He has been talking about getting out of curse-breaking," Ron acknowledged, although he was still watching Harry with amusement.  "Well, you could put all the sixty-year-old curse-breakers into a laundry basket and still have room for half a dozen blankets, but at least they have a chance to make money and get out, which is more than most Aurors do."

"So what do you think – reckon I can persuade them?"

"I dunno – if you'd asked me before you came back to England, I'd have said no, but it looks like there's a whole scary side of you I barely know."

"And just think," Harry said, mopping up a blob of mayonnaise with the final crust of his sandwiches, "if you come and live with me, you can get to know that side up close and personal."

He waggled his brows in what he thought was a lascivious manner, making Ron choke on his beer.

 

xXx

 

Sirius Potter turned up at Ron's workshop with his broomstick a few days before the school train left.  He dawdled in the doorway, waiting to be noticed, which was uncharacteristic of him and made Ron - who knew he was there long before he chose to acknowledge the boy - wary.

He didn't let it show in his face, though, when he finally looked up from the broom handle he was working on and smiled at the teenager.

"'Ullo, mate!  You all right?"

"Yes, thanks."  Sirius held up his broom.  "It's, um ...."

"Still kicking off, is it?"

"There's a bit of a wobble when I do a Munster Roll," Sirius explained.

"Typical bloody twitchy Comet broom," Ron remarked, wiping his hands.  "Did you bring the documents?"

Sirius handed the purchase documents over.  "What difference will it make, looking at those?" he asked.

"It'll tell me who the broomwright was.  When you've been in the business as long as I have, you get to know the work of the other Master Broomwrights and it can tell you a lot about the particular quirks of a broom.  Everyone has a slightly different way of turning a handle and setting a charm ...."  Ron smoothed the papers out and looked at the signature.  He snorted.  "Might have guessed.  Lucinda Snidgeworthy - no wonder it's got a kick in its flight!"

"What do you mean?"

"Women can be great broomwrights," Ron said, taking the broomstick from Sirius's hands and suspending it in mid-air with a charm.  "Several winners of the Great Broom Race, and a couple of the better Chaser models of recent years, have been made by women.  But the pay off is ... well, more temperament.  Sometimes brooms almost pick up a personality and if you get off on a wrong foot with them, they can be difficult.  You probably saw that with some of the school brooms when you took your first flying lessons."

"Do you know her?" Sirius asked, watching as Ron probed the charms on the broom with his wand.

"Snidgeworthy?  I've met her a couple of times at broom fairs.  Definitely on the excitable side.  Though you never know with women, Sirius mate.  Even the calmest of them - well, look at my missus, even she had her moments and generally speaking, you know, she was pretty steady."

"Any brooms _Maman_ made would probably explode in mid-air," Sirius remarked. 

Ron chuckled.  "Only a madman would let your mum near a lathe and chisel, anyway."

"Why do you reckon Dad got together with her?" Sirius asked unexpectedly.

Ron looked at him, startled.  "You're asking _me_ that?"

"You've met her," the teenager pointed out.  "And you know Dad."

"I don't think that makes me an expert," Ron said.  He stepped back from the broom.  "Here, hop on and do a stationary roll for me."

Sirius obediently climbed onto his broom and swung himself upside down.  The broom began to vibrate and tilt a little at the handle end.

"You're obviously not nervous about this manoeuvre, so at least we know it's not being twitchy because you are.  Okay, straighten up - "  Ron began to fiddle with the charms.  "I'm not in any kind of position to comment on your mum and dad," he said as he worked, "and I wouldn't even if I could.  So why don't you tell me what's on your mind instead?"

When he looked up, Sirius was staring down at him, wide-eyed.

"Well, I'm not stupid," Ron told him reasonably.  "I've known your dad a good long while, and the two of you are as alike as beans in a puffapod really.  I knew as soon as you walked in the door that you had something to get off your chest.  So spit it out.  I don't bite, punch, scream or hex."

"Unlike most women?" Sirius asked interestedly.

"Unlike my sister, that's for sure!"

"Why aren't you coming to live with us?"

"Who said I'm not?" Ron asked.

"Well ... mostly Dad."

That was an interesting way of putting it.  Amused, Ron wondered if Harry had genuinely told his son that his offer might not be accepted, or if Sirius was just assuming that based on things people around him - possibly Harry - were saying.  Either was equally likely, especially as Harry was still perfectly capable of jumping to wild conclusions when he felt like it, and some people had no sense of discretion around bright teenagers.

"It's not as simple as all that, Sirius," he told the boy.  "I can't just grab my stuff and move in with you at the drop of a hat, even if I wanted to."

Sirius looked perplexed by this, and Ron was reminded that the boy had spent a significant portion of his childhood travelling around Europe and Africa with Harry, without a permanent base anywhere.  Uprooting himself wholesale probably didn't seem very daunting to him.

"I've lived there for twenty-three years," Ron elaborated, "and mostly on my own for the better part of ten years.  Upping sticks and moving in with you and your dad would be a big change for me, and it's not something I can do without a lot of thought first.  And if I decide to do it, I've got to talk to Gareth and the twins about it and then tell a lot of other people. Some of them won't be too happy about it, you know."

"Your mum?"

Ron smiled.  "It might seem a bit weird, but she won't be the worst.  Imagine what'll happen when _your_ mum hears about it."

"Hope I'm there to see it," the teenager said, grinning.

"Family aren't the ones I'm worrying about.  It's everyone else, when it finally comes out.  And it will.  The press have been writing stories about your dad since he was a baby - they're not about to stop now, no matter what he thinks.  And that kind of thing has a habit of spilling over onto everyone connected with him.  The morning after it hits the press, one of your most distant cousins in Italy'll find reporters on his doorstep, mark my words.  If you have a girlfriend, her parents and grandparents'll be asked how they feel about her going out with the son of a queer.  They'll dig up every crummy story Rita Skeeter wrote about Harry when we were at school, they'll pull up stuff about my wife and ask her father what he thinks about me living a lie all those years I was married to her, and if they're really determined they'll try to stir up trouble with the school Board of Governors."  Ron looked up at Sirius for a moment.  "There's a lot of stuff they could use against him, you know.  All it'd take is one of them finding out that he had a drug habit after the war."

He went back to tinkering with the charms on the broom and Sirius was quiet for a long time; Ron could practically hear the cogs turning in the teenager's head as he processed everything that had been said.  When he finally stood up to tell the boy to do a test roll again, Sirius jumped in first.

"Will you let all that stuff stop you doing what you want?" he asked.  "If you want to live with Dad, I mean."  He was as direct and disconcerting as his father in his demands for information. 

Ron sighed. 

"No," he admitted.  "But maybe I should."

 

xXx

 

Sirius hadn't taken the Hogwarts Express back to school since his second year; as Harry always took a specially-opened Floo at the start of each term, it made more sense for his son to travel with him.  It certainly made life easier on the day, as it meant they could travel in a more leisurely manner after lunch rather than the mad scramble first thing in the morning to make it to Kings Cross on time.

Ron arrived to see them off just after midday and found Harry doing his usual last-minute obsessive check of windows and wards while Sirius finished packing the dog's basket, dishes and toys into an open trunk at the bottom of the stairs.  Scruffy was frisking around him in little excited leaps, pausing only to yip at Ron and chase his tail a couple of times before returning to sniff all around the trunk and try to lick Sirius's face.

"He's always like this when we travel," Sirius explained to Ron, pushing the dog gently away and arranging a large bag of biscuit meal next to half a dozen tins of dog food.

Ron grinned.  "Like a kid, he is.  He'll probably knacker himself and go to sleep once you get there."

"He'll want to go for a walk first," the boy predicted.  "A _long_ walk, all around the school and right down to the lake and back.  Scruff, where's your blanket?  Go fetch blanket, boy!"

Scruffy barked and raced off up the stairs.

"He'll find it, he's dead smart," Sirius commented.

Ron chuckled and started up the stairs in the dog's wake.  Harry was in the drawing room, checking the heavy canvas covers that protected the furniture in their absence.

"I think that's everything," he said distractedly.

Ron rolled his eyes.  "If it isn't, you'll just have to owl me, won't you?"

"I suppose."  They were both distracted by the sight of Scruffy skittering past the drawing room door, dragging a fuzzy paw-print blanket.  "Christ, even the dog's forgetting stuff now."

Ron laughed outright.  "That's your cue to grab everything and go, mate!"

Harry grinned wryly.  "Looks like it!"  But he still hesitated, dithering.  "See you on the first Hogsmeade weekend?"

"'Course you will."

"Good."

Ron looked at him.  "Come here, you wuss ...."  He pulled Harry into a bone-crushing hug.  "Have a good term, Harry mate."

"You too.  Don't work too hard."

"Yeah, right.  This is me we're talking about - "

"Oy!" Sirius bellowed up the stairs, interrupting them.  "Stop snogging!  It's time to get in the Floo!"

"Cheeky little sod!" Harry huffed - and was silenced by Ron's kiss.

 

xXx

 

After that Harry let the matter of Ron moving in rest.  He knew his friend well enough to know that he would certainly be thinking it over; and that if he was pushed and harassed about it he would probably lose his temper again and dig his heels in.  Ron, as Hermione had once noted, was a steady, decent sort, but hand in hand with that character trait went a certain difficulty in accepting change and anything like this major upheaval in his life was something that had to be allowed to percolate gently in his mind for a space, until he was used to it and comfortable with the thought.

Harry himself, while far more impetuous, was able to accept Ron's need for space.  In this respect at least working at Hogwarts was a benefit; he was kept busy at a distance from his friend and wouldn't be tempted to keep picking at the situation.  He even managed to stay off the subject for the first two Hogsmeade weekends when they met up.  There were plenty of other things to talk about, after all, including Quidditch (Ron was like Harry in that Quidditch was Quidditch to him, whether professionally played or a school game), the latest pranks perpetrated by the various houses, a vote of no confidence in the latest Minister passed by the Wizengamot, a new prototype broom, and the long-overdue dismissal of Ron's apprentice Alfred who had been caught surfing off the Cornish coast when he was supposedly in bed with dragonpox.  And when they ran out of things to talk about, there were plenty of other things they could do together.

He planned instead to raise the subject again - very carefully, if the mood seemed right - at the final Hogsmeade weekend before Christmas, so he was a little surprised to return from a staff meeting one evening to find Ron in his sitting room, making Scruffy a very happy dog by grooming him with a bristly hound-glove in front of the fire.

"He'll let you do that for hours," Harry remarked, with a weary smile.  He dumped a pile of files and parchment rolls onto his desk and shrugged his robe off.  "What brings you here at this time of night?  It's a pretty rough evening to be out."

"I wanted to see you," Ron said cryptically.  He gave Scruffy a final rubbing over with the glove, then scooped up the little rolls of shed hair from the rug and tossed them into the fireplace.  Scruffy shook himself and stood up to greet Harry as his master came to join Ron on the rug.

"So what's up?"  Harry sat down cross-legged and studied his friend.  Ron smiled back at him, but he looked as tired as Harry felt.

"I had a chat with Gareth and Lydia and my parents today," he said. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah.  I told them about maybe moving in with you and letting the kids rent the house from me."

"And?"

Ron made a face.  "Gareth and Lydia are up for it - jumped at the chance."

"I thought they might," Harry said mildly.  "It's a very simple solution and less risky than going to a letting agency or something like that."

"Mum and Dad weren't so keen."  Ron glanced at Harry and ruefully amended this statement: "Well - Mum wasn't so keen about it, anyway.  She doesn't understand why I want to move out and she thinks making them pay rent is a bit rough."

"What does she think they'd be doing if they rented a place elsewhere?" Harry demanded, amused.

"Yeah, well this is Mum we're talking about.  Logic's not her strong point.  And while Dad thought making them pay rent is probably a sensible idea, he wasn't too sure about me moving out either."

"So what did you tell them?"

"I ... sort of fudged the issue."  Ron gave him a guilty look, but Harry nodded understandingly.  He hadn't really expected anything else from Ron where his parents were concerned.  "I told them that with you being away so much, the house could do with someone living there full-time and it would be a mutually beneficial thing.  And I played up the bit about not wanting to be too handy where the baby's concerned - Mum had a few things to say about that, which is pretty much what I expected, but I just laid it on thick about having a full-time job and wanting them to be as independent of me as possible.  Dad bought that, I think."

"Perhaps they know there's more to it than that but don't want to push the issue," Harry suggested carefully, after a moment or two.

Ron nodded vigorously.  "Dad in particular - he's more savvy than people give him credit for.  Anyway, they hadn't totally accepted the idea when I left, but I think with a bit of time to chew it over they might go for it without any fuss."

That described Ron's approach to the situation as well, Harry thought, but he didn't say so.  He was just happy that Ron had apparently decided in favour of the plan.

"So what next?" he asked instead. 

"I don't really know."  Ron gave him an uncertain look.  "That's why I wanted to see you."

"You don't have to do it all at once, you know," Harry pointed out.  "There's loads of time.  Do it in stages.  Pick a spare room and put a change of clothes there.  Maybe stop over one night and see how you feel about sleeping over when I'm not there."

Ron raised a quizzical brow.  "A spare room?" he said with a grin.

Harry grinned back, shrugging.  "I don't want to be too forward!  Besides, you might find it handy to have a room of your own, and God knows there are enough of them at Grimmauld Place.  But there's loads of spare space in my bedroom, so just shove my stuff to one side of the drawers and bung yours in there, if you like!"

Ron laughed a little but shook his head.  "That might be a bit much, a bit too soon, for both of us.  I'll see - maybe grab a spare room, like you said, at least until you come home at Christmas."

Harry huffed a breath.  "Christmas!  Merlin, that's the next hurdle, isn't it?  And I haven't even begun to do any shopping yet!"

"I'm definitely having Christmas with the kids at my place this time," Ron said firmly, "whether I've mostly moved in with you or not.  You and Sirius could come over and we'll make a batch of it - get Remus and maybe Laurie Lovegood over too.  What do you reckon?"

"One last big family event before you move out?" Harry said.  "Sounds like a good idea to me."

The corner of Ron's mouth twitched.  "We could invite Cleone as well," he suggested.

Harry eyed him back.  "No, Ron.  We really couldn't."

Ron gave way to a deep laugh.  "Your face, mate!"

Harry grinned, feeling a sudden wash of relief.  If Ron could joke about it, then he must really be settled in his mind ... ready to make the change and fully decided on how he was going to do it.  This could work.  This was working _already_.

"My face would be the least of it," he warned his friend, but his grin widened in spite of himself.

"Couldn't resist saying it," Ron said unrepentantly, then his smile changed slightly, losing the tease and becoming warmer somehow.  "Anyway, we'll get Christmas over with - and then I'll move in permanently.  If you still want me to, that is."

Harry rolled his eyes at this ridiculous rider, but his silly grin wouldn't go away.

It was the strangest feeling.  The one thing he had never wanted to do until now was to settle down permanently with someone.  It had indirectly been the death of his relationship with Cleone and had probably put off a dozen other lovers over the years, and even Ron had acknowledged that unspoken but evident reluctance in Harry when they had first become lovers as adults.  So it was the utmost irony that when the time finally came to settle, it was Harry who found himself in the position of trying to persuade a reluctant partner to make the final leap into domesticity.  But perhaps that was simply the way things had to work out?  Perhaps, when it happened, he needed to be the one who made all the rational arguments for the upheaval of disassembling two separate households and merging them together again to make one, of ending two separate but interconnected lives and melding them into a single conjoined purpose.  Because perhaps it was only then that he would know that he was finally ready for it himself.

 

xXx

 

Travelling home for the Christmas holidays wasn't quite the mess that leaving Hogwarts at the beginning of summer was.  Harry always travelled light, leaving the bulk of his things in his quarters at the school, which meant carrying one large bag for himself, Sirius's school trunk, a trunk of Scruffy's things, and Scruffy himself.  Manageable, in Harry's opinion, although they nevertheless always ended up in a tangle of luggage, wizards and dog in the hallway of Grimmauld Place.

The house was alight, warm and welcoming though, which made a really nice change.  For Harry, who hadn't been entirely sure how Ron was going to manage his change of address, it was the best welcome home possible.

"I'll get the trunks upstairs," he told Sirius.  "Nip and let Scruffy out into the garden, will you?  You know he'll want to re-mark everything."

"Okay.  Come on, Scruff." 

The teenager disappeared downstairs to the kitchen with the dog at his heels, while Harry shouldered his bag and flicked his wand at the trunks to send them up the stairs ahead of him.  He put his head around the drawing room door briefly; the covers were off the chairs and sofa, and a fire was laid ready in the fireplace although not lit.  Better and better.  He followed the trunks up the next flight of stairs and sent them into Sirius's room (the boy looked after all of Scruffy's things when they were at home), then turned into the master bedroom to dump his own bag.

He was turning out a handful of laundry that it had been easier to stuff into the bag than wait for the school elves to deal with, when Sirius came upstairs.  He was carrying a folded square of parchment and grinning.

"Has Ron moved in then?  He left this note on the kitchen table for you, and there's a cauldron of stew hanging over the stove.  And he left the teapot, kettle and mugs ready."

Harry took the note and unfolded it.  He'd already noticed that although his bed was made up, there was no obvious sign of anyone else inhabiting his room - not that he'd really expected there to be.  He scanned Ron's brief scrawl and smiled.

"Did you put a light under the cauldron and kettle?" he asked Sirius.  "He's at a meeting with a designer this afternoon, but he says he should be home by seven."

" _Has_ he moved in?" Sirius repeated.

"Looks like it."

"Then why isn't his stuff in here?"

"Because he's Ron," Harry said, amused by his son's expression.  "It takes him a while to make changes, that's all.  Besides, everyone needs space of their own.  He's probably in one of the spare rooms." 

He hoped his friend was anyway.  They might be jumping to conclusions here, as it wasn't the first time they'd arrived home to find the kettle and teapot ready and essentials like bread and milk in the pantry.  Domestic foresight was a trait bred into all of Molly Weasley's children.

Sirius huffed an impatient sigh.  "You're both nuts," he told his father, and he went off to empty his own trunk and sort out Scruffy's basket.

Harry chuckled.  He Banished his laundry to the kitchen and went to see if any of the spare rooms were occupied.  Although they had all been decorated and carpeted, only one had been fitted out with a decent bed since they'd moved in, and that was the room adjacent to Sirius's which his friend Tedjminder sometimes stayed in during the summer holidays.  Harry rather doubted Ron would use that one, and hoped that his friend hadn't been sleeping on one of the cot-beds he kept for emergencies.

But when he put his head around the door opposite the master bedroom, he found he needn't have worried about anything.  A nice queen-sized sleigh-shaped bed was against the far wall, with a matching bedside table, small dresser and chest of drawers arranged around the room, and a comfortable-looking high-backed chair in one corner by the window.  There was a mirror hanging over the chest of drawers, various knickknacks on the dresser and bedside table, and this particular room had its own small fireplace with a little mantelpiece which now sported half a dozen framed photographs.  The bed was made up with a hand-knitted comforter over the top and there was a chocolate brown robe draped over the foot.

Ron had definitely moved in, at least part-time if not permanently yet.

By the time Harry had done a load of laundry, the dinner was bubbling in the cauldron.  Right on cue, Ron dropped out of the Floo and gave him a weary grin of welcome. 

"I knew you were home," he said.  "I could smell the hotpot from three grates away!"

"Get your cloak off and wash your hands," Harry told him, grinning back.  "I'm just dishing up.  We thought we'd eat here in the kitchen, the scullery's nearer for doing the dishes."

"Works for me.  I won't be a minute."

He disappeared to change out of his travelling cloak and when he returned Sirius was at his heels, regaling him with a blow-by-blow account of a cutthroat Gobstones match he'd won the night before.  Harry was breaking a long stick of French bread into chunks and putting it in a basket in the middle of the kitchen table; the cauldron of hotpot was already standing on a straw mat and steaming fragrantly.

"I've been looking forward to this all afternoon," Ron remarked, passing Sirius his plate when Harry had filled it.  "I reckoned you could do with coming home to a hot meal too.  What time did you get in?"

"We've only been back about an hour or so," Harry said.  He filled Ron's plate.  "Grab some bread.  I had to supervise a detention at the last minute - a complete pain-in-the-arse of a Ravenclaw, and you didn't hear me say that, Sirius."

"Zülle _is_ a pain in the arse," Sirius said, rolling his eyes.  "He's in the Potions Club too and he never shuts up about how they do things differently at Beauxbatons.  I wish he'd piss off back there."

"French?" Ron said, surprised.  "What's he doing at Hogwarts?"

"He's Swiss," Harry replied.  "His father's something big in the Zurich branch of Gringotts, but the kid's been spoiled rotten and the Headmistress says he was transferred to Hogwarts before Beauxbatons could expel him.  Too much money and not enough parental attention, if you ask me.  Attitude coming out of every orifice.  His first language is French and he speaks good English, but when you have to pull him up for misbehaviour he tries to make believe he doesn't understand, which is a bit of a non-starter with me, as you can imagine, since I speak fluent French and reasonable German too.  Needless to say, he and I are not friends."

Sirius snorted.  "He tried making smart remarks about Professor Flitwick at the start of term - he looked a bit green when the professor asked me to translate.  What a dickhead!"

"You watch your back around him," Harry warned.  "The headmistress is as fair as they come, and the teachers all know what he's like, but the Board of Governors are an entirely different story and money talks."

"No fear!" Sirius said scornfully.

"So in other words, he's another little Draco Malfoy?" Ron suggested.

"Well, there's always one," Harry replied mildly.  He changed the subject.  "This is a good hotpot, mate.  Thanks for putting it together.  You look as tired as I feel, though.  Bad day?"

"New designer," Ron said.  He speared a carrot with his fork and paused.  "Lots of bright ideas, but short on the know-how of putting a broom together.  Condescending too.  I kept trying to tell him something wouldn't work, and he kept telling me that I had to be more open-minded, so in the end I dragged him over to the workshop and _showed_ him why it wouldn't work.  That shut him up, but I don't reckon I've made any friends today either.  He's the kind who'll do almost anything to prove he's right, so I expect he'll be back tomorrow with more reasons why I could make the bloody thing work if only I tried harder."

"What does he want to do?" Sirius asked, interested.

But Ron shook his head.  "It'd take too long to explain, mate, and in any case I can't because it's confidential.  But it's mostly a weight issue.  He wants his precious design made from a particular wood and I've already shown him that it's not got enough strength to do what he wants.  So it'll have to be made of a different wood and that'll affect the speed; there's no getting around it."

The conversation drifted into more peaceable channels.  After dinner Ron helped Harry to wash up the dishes, which gave Harry a more natural opportunity to ask about his friend's moving plans, especially as Sirius had taken himself off to his room to listen to his wireless and write a note to his latest girlfriend.

"I'm in the process of seeing what needs to be boxed up and put into storage," Ron told him readily enough.  "To be honest, it's more a matter of getting my mind around it.  It's really hard to think about what can stay put, what I really ought to bring with me, and what needs packing up."

"If it comes to that, I could probably do with packing away some of our rubbish," Harry observed.  "Even getting rid of stuff.  You know, it wasn't until all those crates started arriving from the storage depot in France that I realised just how much Sirius and I really owned.  We were moving around so much and just got into the habit of sending stuff into storage, without ever going to check on it, and it felt like we had very little really because we always travelled light.  _Big_ surprise when it all arrived here."

Ron chuckled.  "Yeah, well that's what I'm wondering about.  Should I go up into the attic and scare myself with all the boxes I put away years ago and forgot?  Gareth and Lydia will probably need storage space themselves."

"But that's something you can do anytime you have a spare few days," Harry pointed out.  "It's not like they're a pair of strangers renting the house - you can go over there whenever you feel like it, really."

"True.  Anyway, I've moved about half of my clothes over already.  Did you see the room I took?"

"I put my nose around the door earlier.  I like your bed."

"I got it from a dealer in Diagon Alley - second-hand, but in really good nick.  I didn't fancy trying to shift the four-poster from home.  It was in the house when we bought it and I'd have to take it apart to get it out of there.  I don't think that would do it much good, so it can stay put and Gareth can move into the main room if he likes.  I put Luna's things in the attic after she died, so it's just my stuff in there now.  It shouldn't take long to pack it up."

"When do you plan to be out of there?" Harry asked.

"They don't want to move in until January," Ron replied.  He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  "Is there anything I've got over there that we could make use of here, do you reckon?  I've been trying to think, but really you've got everything, haven't you?"

Harry smiled.  "This is the problem with middle-aged marriages, isn't it?  Trying to squash two households into one ...."

"Yeah.  I know what I wanted to ask your help with, though.  I need to completely segregate the workshop from the rest of the basement since I'll still be using it.  I'm not worried about Gareth, but if they have people around anytime I don't want anyone finding their way into my workshop when I'm not there."

"I can give you a hand with some wards over Christmas," Harry said with a nod.  "We can make them specific to you, if you like."

"Right.  Like I said to you a while back, we'll have Christmas there - a proper family do - and then I'll move out completely.  I'll make New Year's Day the deadline."  Ron polished a couple of plates with a tea-towel.  "I'm splitting my time at the moment.  It's handy to be here during the week, since it's a shorter Floo hop to Diagon Alley, and I go home at the weekends mostly.  I'll probably be here more now that you're home, though."

Harry grinned at him.  "Bank on it!"

He waited until Ron had dried the last of the dishes and put it aside, then dried his own hands and grabbed his friend, wrapping his arms around his waist and leaning into his shoulder.  Ron made a pleased sound in his throat and wrapped himself around Harry in return.

"This is going to be interesting," he remarked in Harry's ear.

"I'm hoping it'll be better than 'interesting'," Harry replied.  He sighed.  "It's good to be home."

"There was a time when you swore that Hogwarts was your home," Ron said.  "Has that changed, then?"

"There was a time when Hogwarts _was_ my home, for all intents and purposes.  It's not as though my uncle and aunt's house was ever welcoming to me.  And I'm still quite happy there."  He thought about it for a moment or two.  "You get a different perspective when you teach there though.  And I do have this place - if you'd told me ten years ago that Grimmauld Place was good for anything but hitting with a well-placed Blasting Curse, I'd have laughed at you.  But it has become really home-like, hasn't it?  I look forward to coming home during the holidays, and Sirius is happy here.  I just wish his namesake could have seen it as it is now."

"I don't know that it would have made any difference to him," Ron replied.  "He had worse memories of this place than you - more history with it.  It might have been different if he hadn't been trapped here and not able to go out, and if he could have lived here with you, but we'll never know."

"I suppose not."  Harry reluctantly disentangled himself from Ron and they slowly drifted out of the kitchen and up the stairs.  "I've still got some stuff to put away.  And the school photos came through yesterday - want to see them?"

"I don't know - are they the same as last year's?" Ron asked, a little amused.

"No, thank God!  Different photographer this year - he wanted to photograph Sirius and me together in our Quidditch gear, so I thought "Why not?"  At least I didn't have to wear that stupid hat again ...."

 

xXx

 

"Remind me never to Apparate with a freshly roasted leg of pork again," Harry said queasily.

"It could have been worse," Remus Lupin told him, amused.  "You could have splinched yourself on it and spent the rest of the day at St. Mungo's.  But why you didn't simply Floo over with it – "  Harry gagged.  "Ah.  Do you know, I had no idea you suffered from Floo sickness?"

"I would have sent Sirius through with it," Harry said, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing shallowly, "but the network always gets overloaded on Christmas Day.  I think it would have been okay if I hadn't got a whiff of the grease just as I Apparated …."

There was a crunching sound on the gravel pathway and Sirius appeared around the corner of the house.  "Ron can't find the smelling salts," he announced, "so will a clove orange do?"

Harry made a distressed sound and Remus hastily waved the teenager off before he could waft the aforementioned orange under his stricken parent's nose.

"Better not, Sirius.  Nip back and ask Ron if there's any mint or root ginger in the kitchen, will you?"

Sirius sighed melodramatically but disappeared back into the kitchen.  Harry told himself that he'd think up a suitable revenge later.  When he thought he could open his eyes again without being sick, he looked at his father's friend apologetically. 

"Sorry, Remus.  Nice way to spend Christmas Day – freezing your bits off in the garden, waiting for me to throw up."

Remus only smiled.  "Harry, if you only knew how many Christmases I've spent looking after people who really _have_ thrown up everywhere, and usually after a bout of serious over-indulgence, you wouldn't apologise for making me stand in the fresh air while you look a bit green after a bad Apparition."

"When you put it like that …."  He sucked in a lungful or two of the sharp wind.  "It's not just my stomach, it's my _head_.  It feels like it's about to explode."

"Are any of the little darlings spreading 'flu bugs around the school, or anything like that?"

"No – no, it's nothing like that.  Sometimes I just have a really bad Apparition trip, I don't know why.  I've never been that keen on it but it's a choice between Apparating and Flooing generally, and it's hard to pick which one I like less."

Ron appeared around the corner of the house now, carrying a shot glass full of an ominous green liquid.  "Get this down you," he told Harry briskly.

"What is it?" Harry asked, eyeing it with misgiving.

"An anti-nausea potion – and before you start whinging about it, this is _just_ one shot!"

"You know I don't take those things, they can be addictive and – "

"One shot, Harry," Ron interrupted sharply.  "How is one shot going to hurt, if it lets you eat your dinner instead of lounging around the garden all afternoon, making yourself and everyone else miserable?"

" _Ron_ \- "

Remus swallowed a laugh and decided to make a quiet retreat while they were still arguing about it.  He found Sirius loafing around in the kitchen, scrounging biscuits from a tall jar on the counter top.

"Is Dad making a fuss?" the boy demanded, and when Remus smiled he rolled his eyes.  "I _told_ Ron to tell him it was a Peppermint Settler.  Now he'll decide he can't drink and spend all afternoon sulking about it."

Remus was struck by a memory of Harry's mother scolding James Potter for his hangover the Christmas before Harry was born; Sirius's tone was so like her acerbic remarks that he laughed and gave the teenager's shoulder a shake. 

"Let Ron deal with that!  Come on, let's go and make sure the twins haven't done something terrible to the dinner table."

Apparently whatever Ron said was as effective as the potion itself because Harry eventually reappeared, looking more himself, and was able not only to eat his dinner but to enjoy a modest glass or two of wine with it as well.  The party was convivial, even though it was discovered that the twins _had_ got at the crackers despite Remus's best efforts, and all in all the day was best summed up by Scruffy who, having received a lavish assortment of treats over the course of the meal, spent the rest of the afternoon warming his well-rounded stomach in front of the fire.  Sirius tried to coax him into playing with his new toys at intervals, but the dog greeted his efforts with nothing more than a thump or two of his tail on the hearthrug.

"You are a fat, lazy mutt," Sirius told him severely.

 _Thump, thump, thump._

"When should we expect the pups, Scruffy?" Lydia added.  She was charmed by him - but then, most people were.

 _Thump, thump._

"I'll take you for a walk later," Harry promised.

 _Thump, thump, thump_.  Scruffy yawned and stretched his toes out luxuriously. 

Ron chuckled and slowly got up.  "Better do those wards, Harry, before I nod off."

"Right."  Harry dragged himself out of the grip of the couch.

"Can I help?"  Remus looked as though he'd like nothing better than to curl up in his armchair for a few hours.

"Nah, stay put."  Ron grinned down at him.  "Won't take us half an hour."

"Can I watch?"  Sirius was on his feet in a trice.  "We're doing security wards this year, aren't we, Dad?"

"Oy, Potter!" one of the twins called before Harry could reply.  The two of them appeared in the living room doorway with identical evil grins.  "You got a girlfriend called Suzanne?"

"No!"  Sirius looked mildly horrified.

"Ah, bless!  He's growing up, Walter!"

"It's young luuuurve, Marius ...."

"... complete with pink, scented owl-cards and sparkly kisses from his Suzykins ...."

"Hey!  You gits give me that - and she is _not_ my girlfriend!"

"Give it back to him," Ron said in a world-weary obey-or-there'll-be-trouble tone.

"But if she's not his girlfriend, why does he want it?" Marius asked reasonably.

" _Sounds_ like she's his girlfriend," Walter added.  "Listen to this: _Darling Sirry -_ "

Sirius gave a roar of indignation and took off in pursuit of them.  A few minutes later outraged shouts could be heard, followed by an tuneless rendition of _Suzy I love you!  Suzy I do!_ by the twins.

" _Does_ he have a girlfriend called Suzanne?" Remus asked, interested.

"Last I heard, he was seeing Claudia Binkins from Hufflepuff," Harry said with a shrug, amused.  "I can't keep up with them all though."

Remus tilted his head back to look at Harry over the back of his chair.  "Casanova Potter?"

"Seems like it sometimes!"

"Just out of curiosity," Ron said, as they pulled on their cloaks and walked down the garden path to his workshop, "what happened with that, er, situation with Sirius and the Slytherin Beater you told me about last month?"

"Nothing, as far as I know," Harry replied.  "They both acted oddly for a week or so, then Sirius was romancing the girls again like it had never happened.  I haven't asked him about it because he'll tell me if he wants me to know, but to be honest if it came to nothing then I'm a bit glad, because while the lad's not a bad sort as Slytherins go, I still wouldn't want to bet on the outcome if anything went wrong."

"I was wondering about the Zülle kid, actually," Ron said.  He unlocked the workshop door and pushed it open.  "Judging by the way he rants about him, Sirius either has a whopping great grudge against the kid or ...."

"I really hope it's nothing like that," Harry said tiredly.  "Zülle is serious trouble and he's just the sort to lead another lad on and then tell everyone about it.  How he ended up in Ravenclaw and not Slytherin I don't know - not that Slytherin has a monopoly on spiteful behaviour."

"But do you think it could be?"

"That'd be a bit like me secretly fancying Draco Malfoy, don't you think?" Harry said dryly.  Ron looked at him.  "And no, I never did.  If you want my honest opinion, I don't think Sirius is really interested in blokes at all.  He's just more open to the idea because of his upbringing."

"Sometimes all it takes is the right person," Ron remarked, shooting Harry a grin over his shoulder. 

"True!"

Ron led the way through his cluttered workshop, with all the bits of equipment and brooms in various states of completion, until they came to the door that led into the main cellar.  It was usually kept locked.

"You know, it might be better to simply seal up and hide this door altogether," Harry noted, running a hand around the frame.

"I don't really want to do that - it's another route out of the house if there's a fire, particularly since the workshop is fireproofed."

"Fair enough, but any protections you put up will be a problem in that case.  We could modify them so that Gareth can see through them, though."

"I'll get him down here," Ron said.  "It'll be easier if we can set them while he's present."

The warding took an hour and half with Gareth's involvement.  Harry had always known that he was pernickety but his determination to do "a proper job", along with his continual questioning of the type of wards they were using, turned it into an extremely frustrating experience.  Nor was it helped by Sirius joining them, still out of sorts after his battle with the twins and determined to question everything a second time.

By the time they were finished Scruffy was ready to walk off some of his dinner, as was Remus, so Harry gratefully clipped the dog's lead on and led the way out over the frosty fields behind Ron's house.

"I like Gareth," Harry said presently, "but I'm glad I don't have to live with him.  He's like a nicer version of Percy, although I'd never say that to any of the family of course."

"Percy was like Fred and George," Remus said.  "His behaviour was partly a rebellion against his mother, and since he was already a bit prissy and uptight it emphasised all his less attractive traits.  Gareth is just naturally precise.  Arthur says that Percy and Gareth both remind him of his brother Archie who was definitely the oddball of his family.  He was a clockmaker - never married, his work was his life, and he hated anyone interfering with his routines.  I can see the same thing in Gareth to a much lesser degree."

"What amazes me is how patient Ron is with it," Harry remarked.  "He had less than zero patience with Percy."

"There's a big difference between dealing with it in an annoying older brother and dealing with it in his own son, I would imagine," Remus noted, with a smile.  "You put up with a great deal from Sirius too, I should think."

"I don't know about that, he's not terribly difficult.  I'm never sure where to pin the annoying habits he does have, though - I mean, I can't look at him and think " _that_ came from me and _that_ came from Cleone".  Most of them seem to be originals."

"Well I've said this to you before, but he _does_ remind me quite a lot of your father," Remus commented.  "That said, he doesn't have James's good opinion of himself and despite evidence to the contrary James was never a serious ladies' man the way Sirius seems to be.  Besides, I'm not sure if it's a good thing to saddle someone with the baggage of a relative.  Better to let people be themselves.  Personally, it's a delight to me to see that Sirius looks just like you and James, and yet he's still entirely his own person."

"Did you ever want children, Remus?" Harry asked suddenly.

"Of my own?  No," Remus replied decisively.  "Too risky - there's a fifty-fifty chance of passing on the curse, you know.  It's a terrible thing to inflict on innocents, although I've known other werewolves who have.  No, I was always quite content with the idea that I would play uncle to my friends' children.  And I know it didn't work out the way we all planned, but - "

Remus stopped and Harry gave him a curious look.  "But what?"

Remus's sudden smile was almost shy.  "I like to think that since James can't be here to be a grandfather to your son, I can at least try and fill part of the gap for him.  I know that's presumptuous of me, Harry - "

"It's not.  I'm glad you feel that way."

They walked on for a while, Scruffy taking his time to sniff every rock and tree they came across.

"How do you think your new household will work out?" Remus asked presently.  "Especially from Sirius's point of view?"

Harry snorted.  "He told me a few months ago that he prefers Ron to the mother he already has!"  Remus laughed out loud.  "Believe me, I don't encourage him to say things like that!"

"He has eyes and ears, Harry!  I always said he'd work out what his mother's like on his own.  He's an observant lad, your Sirius.  It sounds to me as though he decided some time ago that he'd be happy to have Ron living with you both."

"I think he did.  But things take time to work out - not that he understands that."

"He will, in time."  Remus was silent for a while, before finally saying, "Well, good luck to you both, Harry.  I won't insult your intelligence by pointing out the possible pitfalls of the arrangement, because I'm sure you've both considered them already, but I hope you won't be discouraged if they happen."

"I'm braced for the possible fallout," Harry replied.  "The biggest concern for me is someone finding out and alerting the press or Board of Governors, but unless we're prepared to live an entirely closeted existence that's always going to be a risk.  I made a decision years ago not to live under those conditions, regardless of the consequences, and since then Ron and I have talked about it a lot and he's decided the same thing.  I'm not saying we're going to advertise that we're together, but we're not going to hide either."

"I agree with the principle, but having lived the closeted life in the past I have to say that I admire your courage," Remus said quietly.

"I think the word you're really looking for is 'recklessness'," Harry said, amused.  "I'm not worried about losing my job, and while it's a bigger issue for Ron, I really don't think things would go that far.  But we'll just have to see.  I refuse to put my life on hold indefinitely because of other people's lack of imagination – and if someone does decide to make an issue of it, they may find they've bitten off more than they can chew."

Remus looked at him, a little surprised by the note of cheerful anticipation in his voice, and laughed. 

"Do you know, for a moment there you looked just like your father and godfather rolled into one!"

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Harry intoned, and they both laughed.

 

xXx

 

Having got Christmas out of the way, Harry enjoyed the few relatively peaceful and relaxing days up to the New Year.  There was the annual Floo-call marathon that Sirius had to make to his mother, his grandparents in France, his favourite aunt in Luxembourg, and his great-grandmother in Italy, all of which could be hilariously unpredictable if the international Floo network was experiencing high traffic.  (Crossed wires had nothing on the fun of finding a stranger's head in the fireplace, sometimes speaking an unfamiliar language.)  Ron took the whole holiday period off work for once and he and Harry spent some thoroughly enjoyable, if rather staid, hours together walking Scruffy and seeing what Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley had to offer in the way of entertainment.  The wizard theatres had slowly reappeared after the war, several off-the-beaten-track pubs encouraged live music, and Remus even managed to procure three tickets to a strange experimental dance production one afternoon.  None of them could decide exactly what to make of the latter; it was Harry's private opinion that it made Japanese Noh theatre look accessible by comparison, but it had been something a bit different to do.  And the meal at the Old Stoatshead Inn afterwards, complete with the Quidditch on the pub's wireless, had rounded the day off very acceptably indeed.

Of course, the real pleasure for Harry was being able to wake up next to Ron each morning, even if Sirius did complain once or twice (jokingly) that they should just pick a bedroom and live in it together, instead of swapping back and forth between their respective rooms.  Harry retorted that variety was the spice of life, and Sirius reminded him that Harry himself had given him a lecture to the opposite of that only eighteen months previously –

"I won't ask," Ron remarked dryly.

New Year's Eve was spent at The Burrow - a little unwillingly on Harry's part initially, but to his mild surprise nothing occurred to mar the festivities and they all tumbled home again afterwards, full of Molly's excellent snacks and mulled wine.  Early the following morning Harry and Sirius regretfully Flooed back to Hogwarts, leaving a sleepy Ron in his pyjamas in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, chewing on toast and reading the _Daily Prophet_.  This time it would be a relatively short farewell, however; the next event on their joint social calendars was Gareth and Lydia's wedding at the end of February.

 

xXx

 

Harry understood - in a very vague way - that European weddings could take a long time, a lot of money and an extraordinary amount of fuss to arrange.  He didn't understand _why_ it was so, never having actually arranged one or been a primary player in one himself, but having been peripherally involved in a number of weddings over the years he accepted that this was just the way it was.  Knowing that, he also recognised that Gareth and Lydia's wedding had been arranged in unusual haste and with a lot of 'last minute' details. 

The original plan had been for the wedding to be held in mid-January, but this rapidly became unfeasible due to the proximity of Christmas and the New Year, so the date was put back to the last week in February.  Harry couldn't help thinking that this was an awkward time to hold it anyway, especially factoring in the bride's rapidly increasing size, but he made no comment when Ron told him of the change.  When Ron added humorously that at this rate he would be checking into the bed next to Draco Malfoy at St. Mungo's, Harry grinned but continued to keep his own counsel.  He knew Ron well enough by now to know that he could handle a surprising degree of stress and disorganisation without losing his cool.

The wedding invitations arrived the second week in January, along with a personal note to Sirius from Gareth asking if he would be one of the ushers.  Gareth's best man was a school friend, but Walter and Marius were to be groomsmen and as Gareth explained (in his careful way), given the new living arrangements of their parents, it seemed only proper that Sirius should be included.  As Lydia had two brothers herself Harry had a few private doubts, but Sirius seemed keen to accept and the ushers were ultimately the groom's choice, so once again he said nothing.  He took his son to Gladrags to arrange for appropriate formal robes for both of them and requested permission from the Headmistress to take Sirius out of school for a day for the rehearsals.

Two days after the rehearsal (which, amazingly, had gone without a hitch) Harry was taking advantage of a Hogsmeade weekend to enjoy a solitary dinner and pint in the Three Broomsticks, when Bill Weasley walked in and took a seat at his table.  Seeing Bill at all was an unusual event - he and Hermione were some of the most peripatetic people Harry had ever met, and the inclusion of a baby hadn't slowed either of them down in the slightest - but seeing him in Hogsmeade without prior arrangement was almost unheard of.

"What brings you here?" Harry demanded, grinning, as he flagged down one of the bar staff.  "An Ogden's for my friend and a half of Old Boar's Bristle for me," he requested.

"Cheers," Bill said, grinning back.  "I thought I'd better drop in on the family and see how the wedding fiasco is shaping up.  Have you talked to Ron or the twins recently?"

"If you mean Fred and George, I haven't seen them since Christmas, thank Merlin," Harry replied.  "I saw Ron at the rehearsal on Wednesday though.  He seemed all right then - what's going on?"

"You missed the drama then.  Your nipper's going to be one of the ushers, isn't he?"

Harry raised his brows.  "Not much of a 'nipper' anymore, but yes - why?"

"The bride's mother isn't happy about it," Bill told him, amused.  "She doesn't mind Walter and Marius, but she doesn't understand why someone completely unrelated to Gareth is going to be an usher when her sons haven't got a role in the ceremony.  Which is hogwash, of course, because the eldest is giving Lydia away."

Harry sighed.  "I had a funny feeling asking Sirius to do it was risky, but I didn't say anything because it's not really any of my business."

Bill chuckled.  "Don't worry about it!  According to Hermione, the whole thing's been a battleground all along and this is just the latest skirmish.  Lydia's mother keeps trying to turn it into a colossal event and Ron has to keep slapping her down, and then Mum gets involved and there's a catfight.  I mean, she can't afford to pay for half of the things she wants to do, and according to Ginny Ron has taken to saying he'll repudiate any bills that get sent to him if she doesn't give it a rest.  He's agreed to pay half, but she keeps trying to stretch the point."  He took a sip of his whiskey before adding, "I feel sorry for Lydia, personally.  That woman is going to be a serious pain in the neck for her and Gareth, especially when the baby arrives.  Which could even happen during the ceremony judging by the size of her.  I thought she wasn't due until April!"

"She supposedly isn't," Harry said, grimacing.  "But given how clueless the pair of them seem to have been all along, nothing would surprise me.  I _hope_ it doesn't happen at the ceremony though - I've already been to a wedding where that happened and I don't fancy a repeat performance!  But seriously, Bill - if Sirius being an usher is going to cause more grief than it's worth - "

"Harry, like I said, this is just another skirmish.  Apparently the last one was about Charlie - Lydia's mother didn't want Jokul sitting with the rest of the family.  That caused an even bigger row because although Mum's just as bad about Jokul, she wasn't about to allow anyone else to interfere with them.  But Ron sorted that one out by insisting on a buffet instead of a sit-down dinner and rearranging the seating for the ceremony."  Bill grinned.  "I take my hat off to my little brother, he's showing unexpected guts and genius lately.  You're sitting with Charlie and Jokul, by the way, and so are Hermione and I."

Harry snorted.  "That's fine by me!"

"We can all be outcasts together," Bill added, with a wink.  His mother hadn't yet forgiven him for not marrying Hermione when she became pregnant.

"Do you think your parents have realised that Ron and I are together?" Harry asked curiously.

"I'm pretty sure Dad has, but Mum is still refusing to see what's under her nose.  She's managed to wrangle wedding invitations for a couple of suitable women, by the way, as company for you and Ron."

"Good luck to her," Harry said amiably.  "And to them.  So long as they're not looking for more than a day out with cake and a couple of dances thrown in, everyone will be happy."

 

xXx

 

Owing to the timing, which meant that Harry and Sirius were only allowed a single day away from school for the actual ceremony, Harry didn't see Ron until he took Sirius to Ron's house on the morning of the wedding.  They had arrived home themselves the night before, but Ron spent the night at his house with Gareth and the twins, and Harry had been too busy making sure that Bill and Hermione - who were staying at Grimmauld Place with their daughter Morag - were sorted out to have enough time to nip over and see if his partner was coping. 

The morning of the wedding was mildly hectic, in the way that these things often were even for those whose only role was to put on formal robes and turn up on time.  As Harry delivered Sirius into Ron's hands, he registered that Ron was looking stressed and exasperated, but when he asked if he was all right, he was reassured by the rueful grin and answer he got: "Ask me again at seven o'clock this evening!"

So Harry Apparated home again to scoop up Bill, Hermione and Morag (and Remus Lupin, who had rendezvoused with them at Grimmauld Place) and shepherd them all to the registry office in Diagon Alley.  When they got there, Sirius was handing Order Of Service leaflets to arrivals at the door, and Harry allowed himself five minutes of pure fatherly pride.  He took a number of photographs of the teenager before giving in to embarrassed protests of "Dad, give it a rest!" and following the others into the hall.

Fortunately, having listened to Ron's many gripes beforehand Harry was prepared and managed not to recoil at the flossy pink-and-white décor of the hall.  There were large arrangements of pink and white carnations everywhere and big loops and bows of pink and white satin.  The colour combination was unfortunate; it really didn't go with all the red hair in the room.  Music was playing in the background – something suitably light and sentimental-sounding by whichever singing witch had replaced Celestina Warbeck in the nation's affections. 

Feeling a tickle of amusement beginning (especially when he scanned the Weasley family members present and saw Molly Weasley's expression struggling between a grim glare and grandmotherly pride), Harry waited to catch Walter's attention and was directed to a row of seats where Bill and Hermione had already joined Charlie and Jokul.  Remus was in the row behind with a couple of Weasley cousins and two women in their late thirties or early forties whom Harry didn't recognise and strongly suspected were Molly's "suitable" company for him and Ron.  He hoped the two of them liked talking about Quidditch, and slipped into his own seat.  The hall was nearly full.

Ron was in the first row, of course, looking deceptively calm and composed in a new set of formal robes in dark blue.  Gareth, by contrast, wore the traditional dark grey, finely pinstriped formal gear that was so popular amongst British bridegrooms; he was pale and anxious-looking, and his best man – an equally thin, earnest-looking young man with a prematurely receding mop of dark curls and weak chin – was talking to him in a low voice.  Hopefully he was saying something calming, as Gareth was doing that starting-eyed-swallowing action, indicative of near-panic, that Harry had noticed his late Uncle Percy doing more than once during the war.

Harry scanned the crowd, noticing with mild interest that he knew far more of the guests than he'd expected.  One over-dressed figure in the front row on the bride's side caught his eye; thin and clingy-looking, she was a vision in fuchsia pink ruffles with hair charmed to the colour of a Galleon.  It was the bride's mother; her face, like Molly Weasley's, was fighting between two conflicting emotions, in her case excitement at being close to the centre of attention and general discontentment that was probably her more usual expression.  Harry wondered why she wasn't hovering over the bride instead of waiting in the hall with the guests, and assumed that Lydia must, for once, have put her foot down and rid herself of her clinging parent for the most stressful part of the day.

Then the Registrar, a woman who reminded Harry strongly of Professor McGonagall, appeared at the front of the hall.  She looked serene and collected as she drifted across to Gareth to make light conversation.

"She's late," Bill said, leaning across Hermione to speak to Harry.

"Of course she is," Harry said.  "It's traditional."

"And it's only by a couple of minutes," Hermione added.

"It's an odd sort of custom, don't you think?" Remus said from behind, leaning forward a little.  "I wonder how it started?"

"No idea," Harry replied.  "I think it's mostly a western thing, though – I went to three weddings in Nepal and no one was ever late there.  Mind you, there were only a hundred residents in the village and the ceremonies were held in the village square, so there wasn't really any excuse."

"It was started to put men in their place," Hermione said dryly.  "A bit of uncertainty makes the groom feel a little less sure of himself – it does him good to spend five minutes wondering if he'll be made a fool of in front of all his family and friends."

"That's nice," Harry told her.

"I'm a nice person."

Remus chuckled and sat back.

They waited.  And waited.

"She's late," Harry said finally.  It was now nearly thirty minutes past the appointed hour.  By the sound of things many of the other guests were coming to the same conclusion, and Lydia's mother was watching the door at the back of the hall with anxious eyes.  Harry swivelled in his own seat to look – there was no sign of the bride's party, and Sirius, Walter and Marius were all hovering in the doorway, looking perplexed.

"You don't think she _is_ having the baby, do you?" Hermione asked uneasily.  "I mean, she's only two months away from her due date and all the fuss over the past couple of months isn't healthy for anyone."

"So long as she doesn't have it in here, I don't mind," Harry said.

Ron got up and strolled calmly over to Lydia's mother.  He said something to her; she shook her head vehemently and her reply was low voiced but clearly agitated.  Looking thoughtful, Ron left her and walked up the aisle to speak to Walter and Marius.  Marius nodded and left the hall.

Charlie leaned across his partner to speak to the others.  "If Ron gets any more laid back we'll have to resuscitate him," he said, grinning.

"I'm sure there's a lot of seething aggravation underneath, just waiting to burst out when he gets a spare moment," Hermione commented, amused.  She bounced Morag a little on her knees; the baby was growing bored with waiting and kept throwing her stuffed squeaky rabbit onto the floor to get attention.  Over on the bride's side, another baby kept giving little experimental wails that sounded ominously like the prelude to a fully-fledged scream.  Conversations around the room were starting to take on a speculative air, and the Registrar was looking politely concerned.

Then Marius reappeared, accompanied by Lydia's older brother.  They stopped to whisper something to Walter and Sirius; the twins both stifled grins, but Sirius looked dismayed.

Harry would trust his son's reaction over the mischievous twins' any day. 

"She's not coming," he said very quietly, as the three ushers hurried up the aisle to report to Ron.

"Don't say that!" Hermione whispered, horrified.  "Poor Gareth!"

"Yes – poor Gareth."

The Registrar was a woman who was clearly prepared for all eventualities.  Without losing a whisker of her calm, she swept up Gareth, his best man, Lydia's brother, Ron, the three young ushers, and Lydia's mother and guided them all into an office off the main hall.  Ron hung back for a moment to have a an urgent, whispered conversation with his father, then he followed them.

Arthur Weasley got up and went to the front of the hall.  He looked somewhat perturbed, but he made what Harry thought to be a truly heroic effort and presented a cheerful, smiling face to his audience as he said, "Everyone, there's been a small delay in the arrangements.  If you'd all like to wait quietly, it'll soon be sorted out."  And he followed his son into the office.

Not the most convincing speech ever, but none of the guests seemed to mind as this allowed them all to get down to the serious business of speculation.  The background music, which had been fading, now surged into a new and positive tune, and one or two individuals stretched, got up and went to chat with friends and family in other rows.  Within moments Fred, George and Ginny had all appeared next to Harry, the twins grinning and Ginny looking exasperated.

"So, what do you reckon?" Fred asked brightly.  "Think she got cold feet?  Or did she just decide to drop the sprog early?"

"Try to remember your nephew's feelings, in spite of your unsavoury amusement," Hermione said sharply, annoyed.

"Easy," Bill told her.

"Hey, no harm to poor old Gareth," George said, shrugging.  "He's a decent stick in his own way.  But maybe she just lost her nerve.  Got to admit, marrying into our family takes a bit of courage, Granger."  He raised his brows meaningfully.

"Especially with you two in it," she retorted.

"Ouch!"

"Do you think she _has_ jilted him?" Ginny asked.

"It's looking that way," Harry said.  "I think if she'd gone into labour, one the bridesmaids or her brother would have appeared here straight away to shout the news to everyone.  The whispering and private conference don't bode well."  He felt sad as he said it, but was a little surprised at how little it surprised him.  He remembered thinking that Lydia looked haggard and stressed at the rehearsal, not cheerful in spite of things running smoothly.  The other brides-to-be he'd known were nervous but happy, not miserable.

Remus leaned on the back of Harry's seat.  "It's easy for me to say this, of course, but perhaps they would have been better advised to leave getting married until the baby was born."

"My understanding was that Lydia wanted to get married first," Harry replied.

"Her _mother_ wanted her to get married first," Ginny corrected him, with a bite in her voice.

"Her mother's getting what she deserves then," George said coolly.

"Unfortunately, Gareth and Ron are suffering along with her," Remus reminded him.

There was a stir; Ron came out of the office with a purposeful step, followed by Arthur.  He stopped at the front of the hall and faced the expectant guests.  The background music faded promptly.

"I'm sorry, everyone," he said, and his calm façade was beginning to slip.  "Unfortunately, Lydia is feeling very unwell and couldn't make it to the ceremony this morning, so the wedding has been postponed for the time being."  There was an immediate hubbub of comment; Ron gave everyone a moment, then raised his hands for quiet.  "We've discussed it with the Registrar and everyone feels that it would be best to put the wedding off for now.  I'm sorry you've all been made to wait around for nothing though.  If you'd like to accompany my father, there's a wedding breakfast waiting at The Burrow and we hope you'll all still join us to enjoy the meal and wish Gareth and Lydia well for the future.  Thank you."

He stepped back and Arthur stepped forward, raising his voice to be heard over the sudden chatter.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you'd like to follow my wife and I to The Burrow …."

"That's that, then," Harry said, with a sigh.

 

xXx

 

A little contrary to what Ron had told the guests, Lydia had in fact had hysterics at the last minute and refused to put her dress on, let alone go to the Registry Office.  The bridesmaids and her brother had made heroic efforts to calm her down, but in the end the maid of honour had decided she was in danger of making herself seriously ill and summoned a Healer.  Marius had arrived just as the Healer was administering a Calming Draught.

According to Sirius's account later, Gareth pretty much followed his fiancée's example once he knew she wouldn't be coming.  While the guests were all partying at The Burrow (Fred and George showed a rare moment of familial generosity and exerted themselves to the limit to distract everyone from the disaster of the wedding itself), Ron, the twins, Sirius and the best man escorted Gareth home and got him calmed down.  Lydia's mother also had a mild case of hysterics and was handed over to her own relatives to deal with, the Healer having apparently given strict instructions that she wasn't to be allowed near her daughter until they were both in a more resilient frame of mind.

Harry put in an appearance at The Burrow, solemnly admired the three tier cake before Molly smothered it in preservation charms and carefully stowed it away in her capacious pantry, ate little, determinedly stuck to fruit juice and sparkling water, and escorted Hermione back to Grimmauld Place when Morag finally lost patience and screamed the house down.  Charlie, Bill and Ginny all nobly agreed to stay put and provide moral support for their parents, but Remus accompanied Harry and Hermione, declaring a low-voiced wish for a strong cup of Harry's favourite Assam tea and some peace and quiet.  It wasn't far off the full moon, and his hearing was rather sensitive.

"Well," Harry said finally, when Morag had been pacified with a bottle of milk and laid down for a nap, and the tea had been made, "I won't say that's the most exciting wedding I've ever been to, but it's the first time the bride has genuinely left the groom at the altar.  So to speak."

"I feel so sorry for Gareth," Hermione said, sinking into one of the living room couches with a sigh of relief.

"Yes, but in fairness to the pair of them, I don't think she ditched him because she didn't want to get married.  But I suppose we'll find out more when Sirius gets home."

"He's a good lad," Remus remarked.  "He looked quite upset – unlike Gareth's brothers, I might add – and it was good of him to go back to the house with them."

"Looks like I did something right when I was raising him," Harry said, smiling.

"You did a lot of things right, Harry."

"And stop fishing for compliments," Hermione teased him.

Harry grinned.  "I'll fish for compliments for Sirius any day.  I hope he's all right though.  I don't think this was what he was expecting when he said he'd be an usher."

"He'll be fine," Remus said calmly.  "He's far from lacking in common sense."

"I wonder what will happen now, though?" Hermione said.

That question was answered much later.  Sirius arrived home around six o'clock with the news that Gareth had seen Lydia and talked to her, and was finally settled.  As time was growing short, Harry fed his son and helped him pack up his things, then sent him back to school via the Floo direct to the Headmistress's office.  He had a quick chat with her, explaining what had happened and that he would be back for breakfast the next morning.

Bill arrived home around ten o'clock, looking tired.  "Mum got herself a bit worked up a couple of times," he explained.  On the other hand, the party had apparently gone so well that many of the guests had almost forgotten that the wedding hadn't happened.  Harry supposed there was something to be said for that.

Just before midnight – long after Remus Lupin had gone home, and Hermione and Bill had gone to bed – the Floo flared up for one last time and disgorged an exhausted-looking Ron. 

Harry, who had expected something like this, was waiting on the couch with a tea tray waiting on a small table next to him.  He sat up and tapped the teapot, making steam pour from the spout.  Ron stripped off his outer robe, tossing it over the other couch opposite, tugged his tie and collar undone, and dropped onto the seat next to Harry, working his cufflinks out of his shirt cuffs.  Then he sat back and looked at his friend.

"Cup of tea?" Harry offered, raising one brow.

"Make it a bucket," Ron replied and he let his head fall back against the cushions.  "Bloody hell, what a day!"

"How's Gareth?" Harry asked, as he poured the tea.

"Asleep.  He was okay once he'd talked to her."

"Hm.  And how's Lydia?"

"Probably also asleep by now.  I had a bit of a chat with her when I took Gareth over to see her.  Thanks mate – "  He accepted the tea and took a long swallow, then sighed with relief.  "She was spaced out on whatever it was the Healer gave her, but she wasn't completely talking nonsense.  Pretty upset about things, of course."

Harry poured himself a mugful as well.  "So what's going to happen?"

Ron shrugged.  "Gareth's talking about getting married later, after the baby's arrived, which opinion is strongly seconded by Lydia's mother and mine.  _I_ told Lydia she should only do what she wants to do, though, and if you ask me she doesn't want to get married at all at the moment.  In fact, I don't think she wanted to get married in the first place, but she allowed herself to be talked into it by Gareth and her mum."

Knowing Gareth, Harry wasn't at all surprised by this but he wisely kept that thought to himself.

"So I reckon I'll be having a conversation with my lad in a few days' time, when the dust's settled a bit," Ron concluded.

"Might be a good idea," Harry agreed.

There was a long, comfortable silence as they sipped their tea. 

"You didn't have to wait up, you know," Ron said finally.

"Of course I did!" Harry replied, smiling.

"Well, I'm glad you did."  A pause.  "Remus went home?"

"Yes, and I sent Sirius back to Hogwarts.  He's got lessons tomorrow, so he needs a full night's sleep."

"He was brilliant," Ron told Harry honestly.  "I wanted to clobber Marius and Walter for trying to jolly Gareth along, but Sirius was just sympathetic and sensible – got him a glass of water, talked about Lydia maybe being a bit off-colour from nerves and not to worry and all that."

For the umpteenth time that day, Harry felt a surge of pride in his son.  "Diplomatic genes," he said after a moment, but he couldn't help smiling.

"They'll come in useful as he gets older."  Ron sighed and rubbed his eyes.  "What happened to Bill and Hermione?"

"I brought Hermione home just after lunch, since Morag wasn't enjoying the party much.  Bill got back a couple of hours ago.  Apparently your mother got a bit over-excited."

"Yeah, I went over there briefly before I came home.  I reckon she doesn't know who to blame, so she's pinning it all on Lydia's mother, which is a _bit_ unfair but I'm not arguing the point because there's a certain amount of truth in it.  She'll settle down.  At least everyone went home well-fed and happy, so she's got that satisfaction."

"And how are you?" Harry asked.

There was a pause.  Ron leaned back again and they looked at each other for a long moment.  Then he sighed and looked down at his mug.

"I'm a bit pissed off," he admitted.  "Not at Lydia or Gareth, just at things generally.  What a load of fuss and bother for nothing, eh?  And I'm not being mercenary, Harry, but it wasn't exactly cheap either.  That was quite a few Galleons down the drain to no good purpose."

"Has it left you short?"

"No … no.  It's just me, you know?  It doesn't matter that I could afford it, it's the principle."  Ron snorted slightly.  "And what do you bet me that her mother starts talking about how she can't really afford to pay her share?"

"Send her packing, Ron," Harry warned. 

"I will, don't you worry, but it's another bit of grief I could do without."  He rubbed his nose and sighed.  "Funny, I don't remember getting hitched to Luna being this big a pain in the arse."

"Time heals all ills and blurs the memory!" Harry quipped, and Ron grinned.  He reached out and touched Harry's hand.

"Thanks for being here, mate.  You know?  Just … thanks."

"Idiot!" Harry told him, beginning to grin.  "Where else would I be?

"Yeah, I know, but I want you to know I appreciate it."

"That's sort of the idea of us sharing things, you know," Harry pointed out.

Ron gave him a small smile.  "Yeah, I know."  He sighed and stretched his back slightly against the sofa cushions as though easing a kink in his spine.  "God, it's good to be home."  Something made a crackling noise as he moved and he reached one hand into a pocket in his waistcoat, pulling out a piece of folded parchment and regarding it ruefully.  "Well, I suppose this won't be needed any time soon."

"Why, what is it?"  Harry took it out of Ron's fingers and unfolded it.  It was the marriage licence.  "Oh."

He glanced across at Ron and caught his partner raising a teasing brow at him.

"Unless you fancy a trip up the aisle …?" Ron offered.

Harry grinned.

 

 **\- The End -**


End file.
